


Selective

by poD7et



Category: Supernatural
Genre: American Sign Language, Deaf Gabriel, Dean Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, How Do I Tag, M/M, also not actually explicit, i just don't know how to rate things either, i just realized i never gave this a title, instead of just talking to himself, plot what plot?, puns only puns, so i'll just write what I wrote, this is actually just a bunch of headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8554408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poD7et/pseuds/poD7et
Summary: Dean never thought that he'd have a reason to use sign language again. Until he met Gabriel. Dean was a handyman for hire, and Gabriel was Deaf. But Gabe loves a good prank. He taught Dean a few "innovative" signs before introducing him to his brother. And the first thing that Dean says to Gabe's brother isn't "Nice to meet you."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special shout-out to [@braezenkitty](https://braezenkitty.tumblr.com/) for being a very patient beta and understanding that sometimes life happens. Please note that I had to take a loooong break in the revision process, so any remaining mistakes/plotholes are 100% mine.
> 
> Also, OMG OMG OMG super shout-out to [@dreymart](https://dreymart.tumblr.com/) for the **AMAZING** artwork. Seriously, those comics are the best things I've ever seen! And I'm super glad you decided to illustrate Dean's name sign because that may or may not be one of two jokes that this crack was based on! Check out the art [here!](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/153194565054/title-selective-author-pod7et-fandomgenre-spn)
> 
> And please note: I am not d/Deaf. Assume all dialogue at Cafe chats is signed unless otherwise noted. I hope that this was culturally sensitive. I a few worrying things by some real-life and online friends that are actually deaf/HoH to be sure. If there's something that upsets you, please contact me and I'll be sure to fix it!

It was another restless night. Dean dreamt about the fire. He remembered Sammy, heavy in his arms. He could still hear his dad shouting for Mary. He remembered his breath: shallow and fast. And when he woke, he gasped for breath. It felt like he was still choking on the smoke. He needed some fresh air.

Dean walked out into the night--or was it morning? It was that strange hour when it wasn’t dark, but also not quite morning. The night had lifted to a dull grey and a light mist made it seem as if nothing was real--as if he was still dreaming. But an unseasonably cool breeze chilled him to the core and he was sure this was real.

In a sleepy haze, Dean walked to his car, a black 1967 Chevy Impala, and unlocked the door. He got in and turned the key in the ignition. The low, smooth rumble of his Baby soothed him effortlessly. His car felt like more of a home than this house ever did. He shifted his Baby into reverse and eased off the break. Dean closed his eyes as the car rolled backwards, and he embraced the familiar sound of loose gravel under-wheel. He put his hand on the back of the passenger seat and turned in time to see a dark figure with a seriously case of bed-head approaching. Dean slammed on the brakes. He watched the startled figure jump, landing ass-first on the trunk of his car with a solid _thunk._ Thankfully he popped right back up and continued on his way as if this was something that happened every day.

Dean’s heart pounded in his chest and he worked to bring his rapid, shallow breathing under control. Shaken from the near miss--although Dean admitted it was more hit than miss--he slunk back inside. Maybe a drive wasn’t such a great idea after all. He went to the bathroom and let the water run for a few seconds before splashing it over his face. He needed to do something to pass the time so he straightened his room, pulled out fresh sheets, and made his bed with professional-grade hospital corners.

Next up was food. Dean opened the fridge. It housed a few bottles of beer and some mysterious leftovers that would probably be a better fit for the trashcan than his stomach. Moving on to the pantry, he found some instant oatmeal and contemplated whether his dislike for the glorified wood pulp outweighed his fear of running down irresponsible pedestrians. Ultimately, he decided his desire for real food would be worth the sentence for involuntary manslaughter.

Dean made his way back to his car and checked and rechecked his mirrors and blind spots obsessively before he felt confident there were no rogue runners in the vicinity. Just to be safe, he gave a quick _toot toot_ before slowly backing out of his driveway.

His destination? A 24 hour cafe. He was practically the only other car on the road and arrived at the Cafe without incident. It was empty except for the barista and one customer; he wore a ratty t-shirt and shorts. And his hair was a complete and utter wreck. No . . . It couldn’t be . . .

Dean knew he should say something, but he had no idea where to start. ‘Hi! Sorry I almost ran you over this morning. That was you, right? By the way, why the hell weren’t you watching where you were going? And you seemed to shake that off like this is something that just happens to you all the time. Do you make it a habit of scaring the crap out of drivers by jumping over their cars?’

Dean watched the early morning runner/coffee enthusiast walk toward the exit. There were so many things he wanted to say, but they all bottlenecked in his throat resulting in nothing but a missed opportunity. And Dean couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw recognition flash in the other man’s blue eyes. He shook the thought from his head. That was ridiculous. It was dark, Dean was in the car, and it’s not like they stopped to exchange information or anything. Dean stared at his feet, trying to remember to think with his brain and not his dick because despite everything else, the other guy was undeniably cute.

Dean dragged himself out what promised to be a fantasy he would keep filed away for a rainy day, then approached the counter.

“Dean! You’re up late! Or is it early, brother?”

Dean rolled his eyes and cracked a crooked half-smile. Benny was one of Dean’s closest friends, but recently they hadn't spent much time together outside of the Cafe. Probably because like today, Benny usually worked the graveyard shift.

“What can I do you for this fine morning?” Benny asked.

“Coffee. Black. Large,” Dean answered in a hoarse whisper that caught him off-guard.

“While the voice is undeniably sexy, seems caffeine might not be the best choice for you this morning. Might I suggest a ginger and chamomile tea?” Benny asked, although they both knew it was more of a command than a suggestion.

Dean didn’t like being told no--however indirectly--but he didn't seem to mind as much when it came from Benny. He always had Dean’s best interest at heart. But it was his stomach that spoke next. A long, low rumble.

“And mayhaps an almond, flaxseed muffin.

“Small coffee,” Dean countered with a playful grin, “but I’ll take the muffin.”

Dean knew it was best to follow Benny’s advice. He never regretted it, although he did have quite a list of regrets due to failing to take said advice. However, there was no way Dean was going to make it through this day without at least _some_ caffeine in his system.

Benny pushed a tray across the counter and Dean eyed the seeds covering the top of his muffin suspiciously. “I don’t remember ordering bird food,” he said, “and what’s this?” There were two cups on the tray. Sometimes Benny would throw in an extra drink, but the color of the liquid in the second one was all wrong. He sniffed the golden liquid and scrunched his nose.

“On the house,” he said with a wink.

Dean raised an eyebrow, but took his tray to his usual table in the corner by the window. He picked up the muffin, still warm, and took a tentative bite. It wasn’t half-bad. He looked up, caught Benny’s eye, and gave him a thumbs up. After downing his coffee he sized up the tea. He cautiously sniffed it and felt a familiar sinus-clearing burn. He took a tentative sip and felt the heat of ginger on his tongue. No way was he going to drink this crap. He decided he was content to watch the steam rise from his cup.

But he didn’t have to heart to bring a full mug back to the counter, so he took another sip. It took a few more attempts for his tastebuds to accept that this wasn’t coffee, but the stuff actually wasn’t all that bad. He might have to come back for more after his next restless night. Maybe he should even ask where he could buy some for himself. As he continued to sip at the stuff, he felt the tension he didn’t realize he was carrying, ease.

Dean stared out the window at nothing in particular and let his mind fill with nothing. He snapped back to reality when the Cafe’s phone rang. Dean’s eyes focused and saw the sun was just threatening to break the horizon. Who the hell would be calling at this hour? Dean listened to Benny half of the conversation with mild curiosity.

“Cafe. This is Benny. What can I do you for?” Benny shook his head, “No. No need to trek all the way back here.”

He nodded along with the person on the other end of the line. “Tonight at 8?” he asked. “Yeah, no problem. How many again?”

He reached over and grabbed a pen and pad of paper prepared to write.

“Yep, I’ll make sure we hold a couple tables for you.” Benny scratched out a few notes, “But if you need more than that, you’ll have to fend for yourselves.”

Benny ripped the top sheet of paper off and taped it to the register. “You too! Have a great day and good luck!”

What was that about? Was someone having a party? At the Cafe? Not exactly the most exciting spot in town, but then again, it wasn’t half bad either.

Dean carried his tray back to the counter. “Having a party later?”

“Hmm. Not exactly. Some sort of reunion or something. I didn’t ask for details. He said he was bringing in ‘a few tables worth of paying customers’ so who am I to object?”

Dean smiled, shrugged, and walked back to his table. He watched the sun rise as the early morning rush started to trickle in. Dean made his way back home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean meets Gabe . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACK! Posting this takes much more work than I anticipated . . . 
> 
> I've got to head to work, but I'll have the rest up by this evening!

Dean drove home and felt his stomach churn. He willed his breakfast to stay in his stomach as he graphed the direct correlation between his distance from the cafe and his anxiety level.

He pulled into the driveway and found himself craving a drink: not coffee, but the after five kind of beverage.

Dean chuckled. “What doesn’t kill you gives you poor coping mechanisms and a dark sense of humor.”

Inside, Dean found comfort in the few things he _could_ control: vacuuming the carpet, cleaning the kitchen, or reorganizing his closet. He found the combination of physical and mental exertion particularly cathartic.

Dean pulled the couch away from the wall and passed the vacuum over the carpet. He heard the clatter of crumbs being sucked into the machine. Next he sorted his laundry by color and material. He lamented his lack of whites. Not enough for a full load. He would end up handwashing them again. They could do with a good machine clean, but it would save him some money in the short-run. Which was a good because Dean was barely able to stave off the debt collectors by working as a handyman/jack-of-all-trades. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills . . . usually.

Fortunately, Dean’s financial situation was temporary. A few months ago, his best friend Charlie roped him into some niche startup: Moondoor’s Custom Armory and Outfitters. Something to do with costumes and props. At first Dean was leery, but Charlie showed him that people were interested in the venture. Not just mildly curious, but interested enough to make _monetary contributions_ to startup costs. After hearing that, Dean quickly changed his mind.

Dean's role would be to help build some of the more complex props. He was pretty handy, and he wasn’t half-bad as a tailor either. Charlie would handle the business end of things; including writing Dean’s first paycheck which he would receive in a few weeks. Of course, Charlie had been saying that for a few weeks now. The holdup was something to do with bank accounts and business licenses. Dean didn’t know and quite frankly, he didn’t want to. He trusted that Charlie knew what she was doing. She was one of the smartest people Dean knew. She had a sob story of a childhood and had practically raised herself _and_ her mom from the time she was twelve. A little accounting couldn’t stop her.

But if on the off-chance this fell through, Dean _could_ ask his brother for help. His firm—yes, his very own—was successful. So successful that he spent most of his time volunteering in soup kitchens or something--and not out of guilt for his wealth either. Sam did it out of the goodness of his overgrown heart; the one Dean teased was necessary to pump blood through his oversized gorilla body.

Dean would have to be pretty desperate to ask Sam for money though. It didn’t matter that his moose of a brother towered over him, he was still the _little_ brother. It was Dean’s job to take care of him, not the other way around.

For now, it was almost time for work. Checking his calendar, he saw he had two jobs today: a leaky sink in the morning and rubbish removal in the afternoon.

Dean climbed into the Impala and pulled his _Led Zeppelin II_ cassette out of the glove compartment. Yes, a cassette. Baby was a classic and there was no way he would defile the aesthetic of her interior just to update her console. He looked over his shoulder, checking and rechecking that no one was there. He cranked the volume once he was safely out of the driveway and positive he hadn’t run a man down. It would be awhile before he could back out of his driveway without feeling an anxious tightness in his chest. Satisfied he hadn’t killed anyone, Dean drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel as he drove to his first appointment.

He arrived early enough to be creepy rather than professional, especially on this side of town. Not that it was a bad part of town—it was quite the opposite. People in this neighborhood could usually afford a professional. But word gets around and Dean didn’t want to get caught loitering, thereby tarnishing his reputation for being reliable, competent, and an all around bargain.

Instead of creeping on his client, he opted to wait in his car. He lowered the volume before rolling down the windows to cross-ventilate. The rising sun had driven away the morning chill and Baby’s black paint attracted the heat. Dean hummed along with Robert Plant, but he just wasn’t feeling it. Not even when he flipped to side two and “Ramble On”—one of his all-time favorite songs—started playing. He certainly wasn’t rambling anywhere. He was parked across the street from a house that cost more than he'd care to know, and he’d stopped searching for his baby a long time ago. The only Baby he needed was the one he was sitting in. Relationships just weren’t his thing. They never worked out. He wasn’t able to take things to ‘the next level,’ whatever that meant. Sure, there was Lisa, but that ship had sailed into the west long ago.

Dean checked the time on his phone and saw that he had one new e-mail. He opened it, hoping it might be another client. No such luck. It was just his only other client for the day cancelling the job. Via e-mail. They could’ve at least had the decency to call.

Dean scrolled through his small backlog of messages from potential clients. He had time to waste, and now an appointment slot to fill. Dean opened the first one. He read the contents and tapped out the beginning of a reply, but quickly became frustrated with the mechanics of typing an email on the tiny screen and shut it off. He’d deal with it later.

He preferred to call clients if they left a number anyway; it was easier to pick out the weirdos--and there were definitely some weirdos. When he had first put his ad up, his inbox had been bombarded by messages from folks requesting unique ‘services’. Dean shuddered before checking the time again. Still early, but professionally early and no longer creepy-stalkerish early.

Dean approached the door of 1817 Laurent Lane and looked for a bell. He couldn’t find one, so he knocked instead. No answer. Dean checked the time: 9:28 AM. He remembered the appointment was for a leaky faucet at 9:34 AM. The strangely specific time had stuck in Dean’s memory, and he didn't need to check his calendar to confirm.

Searching the front door once more for a bell, he found it on the side opposite the door’s handle. Dean frowned at the odd choice. He pressed it and waited to hear the familiar _DING-DONG_ , but he couldn’t make one out. He pressed it again, making sure to press it all the way down. He held it a couple seconds for good measure. Still no sound, and no answer.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean backed up and checked the windows for any sign of life inside. He counted out sixty seconds then rang the bell one more time. Looking back at the windows for any sign of activity, he noticed lights flashing on and off. Dammit. Dean mentally kicked himself for not waiting a few more minutes. Still too early. He envisioned his client panicking and shoving detritus into closets to try and make the house presentable. Or maybe Dean had the details mixed up and this was less of a leaky sink job and more of an electrical nightmare. Everything about this job felt off and he hadn’t even met his client yet.

This was his only job today and Dean hoped it wasn’t going to be a waste of time. The guy seemed normal enough. He was adamant about communicating via text, but that barely registered on Dean's weird-o-meter. He could’ve been wrong though. Maybe ‘leaky faucet’ was a euphemism for something.

Dean was just about to back off the porch and slink away when he heard footsteps approaching. The door swung open. The man on the other side was calm and composed despite the panicked Dean had witnessed just a moment ago. He wore jeans with a red button-down shirt that was fashionably rumpled. His hair was combed and he was clean shaven . . . and handsome even if he was somewhat shorter than Dean anticipated. Dean held out his hand and put on a professional smile.

“Dean Winchester. I’m here for a Mr. . . uh.” Shit. He knew the time and job, but he didn’t think to check the man’s name.

Dean watched his client twirl a red lollipop in his mouth as if contemplating how to proceed. He smiled and offered his hand without comment on the name flub. Mr. I-really-should-have-checked-my-planner-before-ringing-the-bell indicated that Dean should follow him inside. Dean entered the house, belatedly noticing that Mr. Eating-a-lollipop-like-that-should-be-illegal wasn’t wearing shoes. He looked back and saw a small collection of footwear by the front door.

“Oh, sorry about the shoes.” Dean said jogging back to the entrance to de-shoe.

He rejoined Mr. Would-probably-look-hotter-with-a-beard who only just realized he had lost his guest.

Dean rambled off an apology. “Hey, sorry about the shoes. I didn’t realize and I know how some people can get about that. Not that I judge or anything. Hey, gotta keep a clean house, right?”

His client politely shook his head and pointed to his ears.

“Huh?”

Mr. Leave-your-shoes-at-the-door repeated the gesture.

It took a moment before Dean started to figure it out. Now things were starting to make sense.

“Oh!” Dean said, taking care to speak clearly. “I didn’t know you were like, hearing impaired or whatever. Uh . . . sorry about that.”

Mr. Maybe-I-should-have-noticed-your-hearing-aids-earlier recoiled slightly and cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at the statement.

“Wait. So you’re no—”

Mr. Hearing-impaired-but-also-maybe-not? made a show of taking out his phone. Dean stopped blabbering and watched with interest as the other man typed a message.

Dean’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out.

> Gabriel: _Deaf._

Dean let out a sigh of relief when he saw he had stored the number with a name. Gabriel. But Dean caught the contradiction between the text and the message he was getting. Dean wore his confusion on his face. Gabriel must have picked up on it and started typing another message.

> Gabriel: _Not hearing impaired. Deaf. Not PC._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I experience second hand embarrassment for Dean Winchester every time I read this.

Back home, Dean kicked off his boots and collapsed onto the couch. His stomach gurgled, demanding to be fed. The last thing he had was a muffin before sunrise. He contemplated the instant oatmeal in his cupboard. But contemplation was as far as it went. He decided he could wait to grab something on his date at the cafe.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. _Date_?! Dean didn’t date. Hopefully Gabe saw it that way too. He was just escorting the guy to some social engagement he’d rather avoid. Escorting? Nope. Definitely sounded worse. There would be no escorting. Just socializing. Normal socialization. And normal chatting. All very normal interactions. This was not going to be another one of those “weird” clients Dean worked so hard to avoid. Plus Gabe didn't give off the weird vibe. Well, he gave off _a_ weird vibe. But not that kind of weird. He was just . . . different? Like not the deaf thing. That was weird too, but that wasn’t the kind of weird he was thinking about. It was more like--

Dean’s internal monologue was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

“What’s up, bitch?”

“Hey Charlie.”

Charlie froze. She eyed Dean suspiciously. “Whoa.”

“Whoa what?” Dean asked.

“You got this whole “very serious” thing going on.” she said furrowing her brow, mocking Dean’s expression. “And I thought you had work today.”

“Huh? Oh. I did. Finished earlier than I thought.”

“Okay, but what’s with the face? Are you just seriously backed up or is there something on your mind?”

“I’m just trying to figure out if coffee at the Cafe tonight is a date or . . . ya know, a _date_.”

Charlie bounced over and took a seat next to Dean on the couch. “Okay, I'm having a dry spell so let me live vicariously through you. . . . SPILL!”

“His name is--.”

“His?” Charlie interrupted. “You know, for an ‘occasional dabbler’ in the field, you sure manage to pick up more than ‘just a few’ men.”

Dean shoved her playfully. “Shut it. Anyway, his name is Gabe and _he_ asked _me_.”

“No surprise there. You are quite the handsome devil if I do say so myself! I mean, I’m not sure if having your token lesbian friend call you handsome is better or worse than if I were into dudes,” Charlie said, standing to get a better look at Dean. “Wait . . . did you say, Gabe? As in _Gabe_ Gabe? Like Gabriel, Gabe? As in this morning’s _client_ Gabe?”

Dean put on his most charming smile.

“Oh, don’t you start that crap. I’m more bent than Xena’s Gabe . . . rielle. That means I’m immune to your masculine wiles. Unlike most of the rest of this town apparently.” she said, sitting down with a huff. “Serious question: Is there anyone in this town you _haven’t_ slept with yet?”

“Yes.” Dean responded defensively before he furrowed his brow, thinking of who might be on that list.

Charlie grinned as wide as the Cheshire cat himself.

“Shut it. Are you going to help me get ready?”

“I didn’t say anything. And help you do what?”

“Gabe is Deaf and we’re going to this sign language thing at the Cafe tonight. So I was wondering if you could help me practice after Moondoor stuff.”

“Better than that, I’m going to meet a friend there tonight. I’ll go with you.”

“A friend, or a _friend?_ ” Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“We have to work for a few hours first. We’ll talk-- nope, no talking, we’ll _sign_ later..”

“You’re the best Charlie. I love you.”

“I know.”

“Nerd,” Dean declared as he walked out of the living room toward his bedroom.

“And damn proud of it!” Charlie replied.

\--*-----

Dean and Charlie didn’t get much time to practice. She was nearly drowning in paperwork and Dean didn’t press his luck. The idea that Charlie was willing to help was almost as good at the help itself. And while it took a few minutes of deep, calming breaths and plenty of reassurances from Dean, she managed to get everything done.

Then after a few basic tutorials, Dean and Charlie drove to the Cafe. By the time they arrived, Charlie was the one talking Dean through deep, calming breaths.

But once they were in view of the Cafe's windows, Dean was Mr. Calm-and-collected. Charlie was desperate to know how he did it. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't explain it. He still felt nervous, but he just decided to keep that fact to himself.

Inside, they saw hands flying and Dean was able to quickly pick Gabe out from the fray. He was sporting a lovely eight-o'clock shadow that only confirmed Dean’s belief about Gabe and beards. Charlie gave Dean an encouraging pat on the back before leaving him to pick up their usual order.

Dean scanned the group for familiar faces. He recognized a few from around town, but there was no one he felt comfortable approaching. Well, there were a few that were certainly easier on the eyes than the others, but that wasn’t why he was here. At least he didn't think that was why he was here. But there was one face in particular that took his breath away. It was the runner from this morning. So he was deaf. What were the chances . . .

Dean reached for the words he rehearsed that morning at Gabe's, but they were gone. And of course, that was the moment Gabe spotted Dean. He waved him over as the rest of the group turned as one to see who was being inviting to their table. Dean pointedly avoided eye contact with the runner as he pulled up a chair.

“Hey,” Dean signed.

Gabe signed something that Dean didn’t quite understand, but everyone nodded. Dean assumed it was a quick introduction. Everyone was staring at him like they expected an answer.

Dean sported an awkward smile as he waited for a short, yet uncomfortable amount of time. Then everyone started to introduce themselves. There was Gabriel, Castiel, Balthazar, Eileen, Hannah, Anna, Crowley, Michael, Raphael, and Cyfer. Some had sign names and some didn't. And everyone was surprisingly patient with Dean during introductions. No one laughed when he stared, blinked, and asked them to spell their name a second, third, or even a fourth time. And who could blame him? Half these names would’ve been hard enough in English, let alone a foreign language.

Next up was Dean.

“My name is Dean,” he said spelling out his first name just as Charlie joined the fray. “Oh, and this is--”

“Hey, I’m Charlie!” she interrupted. “My sign name is _this_.” she added with her hand in the shape of the letter C and using her thumb to push up an imaginary pair of glasses.

Gabe bit his bottom lip and looked at Dean expectantly.

“Oh right,” he mumbled. “This is my sign name.” he said tapping the letter ‘D’ over his nose.

Charlie saw it and her jaw dropped. Balthazar slapped the table and doubled over with laughter. Dean scanned the table to gauge everyone else’s reactions. Michael and Raphael both seemed extremely unamused. Anna smiled shyly. Eileen stiffly elbowed Balthazar in the ribs. Cyfer feigned indifference. Hannah kept a straight face. Crowley just held Dean's gaze and smiled until Dean broke the contact. The runner, Castiel, glared fiercely at Gabe seemed to be using every ounce of willpower, to only somewhat successfully, to keep a guilty grin from creeping onto his lips.

Dean felt a flush rushing into his cheeks. He watched Charlie sign something to the group, but no one answered. She stared down each person in turn.

“Who?!” she demanded.

Eileen pointed knowingly at Balthazar who responded, “Not me, babe. At least not this time.”

Castiel signed something to his brother who stood and addressed the group.

Balthazar’s laughing redoubled. He seemed to be having a hard time trying to remember how to breathe. Everyone groaned, but no one seemed surprised.

“Sorry,” Castiel apologized. “He’s my older brother, but he can be very __________.”

Dean copied Castiel’s last sign moving his pinky finger across his nose. “What does that mean? Is that the same thing as this?” he asked starting to bring the letter “D” up to his nose again.

Castiel intercepted Dean before he could complete the gesture. Balthazar lost it again. And some of the group decided they had enough of this and started up their own private conversations.

“This sign,” Castiel repeated sliding the letter ‘i’ across his nose, “means that Gabriel behaves like an adolescent ass. The other one . . .” he trailed off.

“Well, love. That “sign name” of yours is just a less vulgar way to say this.” Balthazar explained placing a closed fist by his crotch. He then proceeded to pump it in a very recognizable manner.

Dean stared at Balthazar. He wanted to turn tail and run, except that his feet seemed to be cemented to the floor.

“You just called yourself a dick!” Balthazar signed, mouthing the final word, before bursting out into another fit of laughter.

Dean went slack jawed. He glared at Gabe who honestly should win an Oscar for the wide-eyed innocent expression he just pulled.

Castiel waved for Dean’s attention. He took a deep breath, and started spelling out a word for Dean. “D-I--”

“Yeah, um. C-K. Don’t worry, Cas. I got it.” Dean said with lips pressed together tightly. He only hoped that his cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt.

"I'm sorry for my brother." Cas apologized again.

"Well, thanks for not being an adolescent ass. And uh, nice to **** you.”

Balthazar buried his head in Eileen’s shoulder, while actual tears fell from his eyes.

What now? Dean thought. He was actually pretty sure this one was right. He screwed it up back at Gabe’s, but he was almost positive this one wasn’t a dick joke.

Castiel held up the index and middle fingers on each hand like peace signs, but with palms facing each other. Dean mirrored him. Castiel then lowered both middle fingers and Dean copied. Castiel brought both hands together.

“Meet.” Castiel mouthed as he signed the word.

Dean copied the sign. “Then what does . . .” Dean drew his hands apart and propped up his middle fingers again.

Castiel just shook his head.

“Looks like ‘Dick’ doesn’t waste any time, Cassie.” Balthazar said as Eileen shoved him again.

Charlie leaned over and whispered in Dean’s ear. “You just said you wanted to screw Castiel.”

Dean blushed. He was glad for the voices off rule because he was definitely too embarrassed to speak.

The rest of the night went a little more smoothly. Dean learned some new signs--appropriate ones. He even got a proper sign name: The letters ‘D’ and 'W' signed over his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day it had to be pushing 90°F outside. And inside Dean’s stuffy apartment it felt more like 120°F. Dean was sweaty and probably smelled. He was glad he had no clients today. Actually, he had no clients all week. Which was precisely why he did not have his air conditioner turned on . . . or an air conditioner. Instead, he opted to open all the windows and strip to his boxers. Dean would've taken everything off, but the windows were open and he had _some_ self-respect. So he sat with his fan blowing over a bowl of ice because the air needed cooling even if he couldn’t afford a fancy machine to do it for him.

When Dean got up to refresh his bowl of ice, well at this point it was mostly water, his phone vibrated. He abandoned his task, sank back onto the couch, and grabbed his phone. He hoped it was a job from one of his regular clients. In hindsight, he realized he was a bit overeager, but it's not like they had any way to know Dean was that desperate.

It turned out to be Gabe. He wanted Dean to help install his new air conditioner.

Dean wished he would be installing his own air conditioner. But even a few minutes of reprieve from his furnace of an apartment would be welcome. He started to type out a yes, but he stopped before he hit reply. He hadn’t spoken with Gabe since the Cafe. And while they didn’t part on bad terms, they weren’t exactly friendly ones either. Then again, he needed the money. And this should be easy. It was just an air conditioner. What could go wrong?

But why would Gabe need help with that? It wasn’t exactly rocket science. Sure, Gabe fell below average in terms of height, but he seemed healthy enough. He had to be more than capable of shoving a unit through a window. He was Deaf, not a friggin’ arm amputee or something. But money was money and Gabe was a good tipper, Dean certainly wouldn’t mind a few extra bucks lining his pocket. He decided it would be worth his while to deal with a few minutes of awkwardness in exchange for cold, hard cash.

 

> Dean: y _eah i could come over anytime after 1 today if you’re free_

Dean was actually free all day, but his apartment would be unbearable by midday. So why not kill two birds with one stone and get paid to work a job that would result in a reprieve from the heat as well?

 

> Gabe: _1PM works for me. It’s a date._

Dean rolled his eyes and sincerely hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

\--*-----

Unlike their first engagement, Dean arrived at Gabe’s right on time. He remembered the doorbell situation and went straight for the oddly placed gadget. But it wasn't there. Maybe Gabe finally figured out how strange that placement was. Dean checked the standard side, but he knew it would have been too simple if the bell was there. He looked around the entire door frame and found nothing. Grumbling, he tried to look the wrong way through the peephole. He couldn’t see anything useful, but he was sure there was someone moving inside. Dean thought whether or not knocking would be any use. Then he spied the mail slot. Perhaps it would offer a better view of what was happening inside. He flipped open the flap and sitting right there was the doorbell. What the hell? Dean pressed it and he saw the house lights flash.

Gabe answered the door with a familiar grin. Dean narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, but said nothing. He stood in the doorway waiting to be invited in. But instead of an invitation, Gabe slipped past and walked to the driveway. Dean hesitated a moment, then decided he should follow him.

Gabe popped the trunk of his car and gestured to its contents. Dean looked at what was possibly the biggest air conditioner in all of creation. He suddenly understood why he was here. With an assist from Gabe, he shimmied the box out of the car. Dean struggled more with the sheer size of the thing than the weight. It was unwieldy, but not impossible to carry on his own. Seeing that Dean could manage, Gabe ran ahead to get the door.

Dean carried the box in the living room as per Gabe’s instructions. He wanted to say something, but the box covered his mouth and his hands were full. He felt a sudden sympathy for Gabriel. Such a simple task, like carrying a box, prevented Dean from communicating. But only here. Only with Gabe. This was his life everyday. He didn't really understand that when they first met. That morning it just felt like an asshole test. Today it seemed more like rite of passage.

Dean set the box down lightly and asked, “Where are we putting this?”

“Well, that one,” Gabe said indicating a unit already sitting in the window, “didn’t really have enough juice to cool the room. That’s why I bought this guy,” he said patting the box.

Dean removed the old unit and carried it to the garage. Back inside, Dean became acutely aware of the stagnant air. His shirt clung to his chest in all the wrong ways. Normally, Dean would take it off--he wasn’t against flaunting the goods, especially when it led to a better tip, but for several reasons he opted to remain clothed. Instead, he stood by the new unit, fanning himself with his shirt.

After an awkward pause, Gabe indicated that Dean should get to work. He pulled a swiss army knife from his pocket and cut the tape sealing the box. With another assist from Gabe, they pulled out the styrofoam protected unit. There was a considerable amount of packaging, but despite all that, it was still a beast of a machine..

“Can you get the window for me?” Dean asked while removing the plastic from the various bits and bobs.

Gabe didn’t budge and the heat was starting test patience. On the one hand he was hired help, but on the other, was it really unreasonable to ask Gabe to open a window? He looked up expecting to see that familiar smirk on his face, but instead Gabe was just watching him work. Dean was about to give him a piece of his mind, but then he remembered. Deaf. Right. Dean repeated his request and Gabe happily obliged.

Dean picked up the unit and maneuvered it into place. Gabe carefully lowered the window while Dean adjusted the side flaps.

Gabe smiled, but Dean frowned. He wasn’t sure a unit this big was safe to leave in a window without being properly mounted. He volunteered pick up a couple of brackets and screws, but Gabe insisted he make the run himself. Dean made a list for Gabe then told Dean to make himself at home.

As soon as Gabe left, Dean switched on the air conditioner. He stood in front of it and peeled off his shirt. Then everything shut down. Not just the unit, but everything. Shit. He must have overloaded a circuit. At least, he hoped it was a circuit. He didn’t have any fuses in his car. Did people still have fuses?

Dean wandered around the house looking for the breaker. As he futilely searched, he tried to work out where the closest hardware store would be. He estimated it was a good fifteen minutes away. That meant that he’d have at least thirty minutes to find and reset the damn thing.

He carried his shirt into the kitchen and hung it over a chair. The kitchen was also where he found an open door that led to the basement. Dean reckoned that basements were generally good spots to search for circuit breakers. He carefully began his descent in the dark and stopped short when he saw a dark figure. His back was turned. Panicked, Dean looked around for something he could use as a weapon. He groped the wall and stumbled across a hammer. He picked it up and crept toward the figure. Hammer raised, he prepared to strike.

The stranger turned slowly and even in the dark there was no mistaking it.

Dean swiftly lowered the hammer in an embarrassed fluster.

“I’m so sorry!” he blurted, trying to find a way to sign with a hammer in his hands.

“Shit, he probably can’t even see what I’m signing.” Dean muttered under his breath.

“I can hear you, though.” Castiel signed.

“You can hear?” Dean repeated.

“I just said I could.” Castiel continued, tilting his head to the side as if he were confused at Dean's confusion.

“Can you speak?”

“I can.” Cas continued to sign without voice, “And I don’t think a hammer is necessary to flip the circuit.” he added flicking a switch. The lights flickered back to life. Dean smiled sheepishly and stuffed the hammer into the back of his pants.

“Sorry again,” Dean signed. He rubbed his fist against the bare skin of his chest, now acutely aware that his shirt was all the way upstairs.

Castiel patiently waited for Dean to say something. He didn’t. Then after an uncomfortably long silence, Castiel said, “Don’t worry. I know you’re hot.”

If Dean wasn’t embarrassed before, he certainly was now. Castiel thought he was hot? I mean, Cas was pretty hot too. Not that he was looking. Okay, maybe he was looking. But he was here for Gabe anyway. Or maybe he wasn’t. Well, he was definitely here for Gabe, but whether this was a business or booty call was yet to be seen. Everything about Gabe was weird. Dean felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face and he wiped it away. Oh. _Hot_. Like temperature. Yeah. It was pretty hot. That had to be what Cas meant. Except for the fact that he seemed unperturbed by the weather. Castiel was wearing long pants and button-down shirt that was buttoned right up to his neck.

Dean looked up and realized Cas was staring and he found himself staring right back. Castiel's eyes were blue, very different from Gabe’s. Now that he thought of it, Cas and Gabe were different in so many ways that Dean had a hard time imagining them as brothers.

“You’re not deaf?” Dean signed because he felt awkward being the only voice in the conversation.

“Nope.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.

“I live here.”

“You’re brother, right?”

Castiel nodded.

“But you’re not deaf?” Dean asked. He recalled Gabe saying it ran in the family.

“No. Are you well? You keep asking the same question."

Dean was exasperated. Maybe it was the heat, but he found Castiel grating. What sorta was name was that anyway? Where was this family from? Gabriel? Castiel? What was this? Some sort of science fiction novella?

"Casti-- Cas, your brother said he had some sort of wardingburrs syndrome,” Dean said switching back to voice because he had no idea how to sign any of this, “and that's why he’s deaf. He also told me it ran in the family. Is that true? Because you’re family and you’re not deaf. And if the Cafe is any indication, I would have to think that Gabe’s not the most reliable source of information."

"No. He’s not very reliable.” Cas said, his eyes far off as if he were remembering something. “But I do have the same syndrome. Only I didn't inherit the hearing loss. I do have the trademark blue eyes though.”

“I noticed.” Dean said trying his best not to roll his eyes.

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat startled both Cas and Dean. They looked at the source of the noise and saw a flustered Gabe.

“Sorry to interrupt!” He shouted before he took off giggling like a schoolgirl.

Dean fumbled for words.

“I got the supplies!” Gabe called, the laughter evident in his voice. "Let me know if you need some . . . alone time."

“Right, uh . . .” Dean answered crossing his arms in an unsuccessful attempt to cover his chest. “Coming!”

Back upstairs, Dean hurriedly pulled on his shirt before joining Gabe in the living room. Without ceremony he took the bag of supplies and installed the AC.

“That should do it!” Dean said with a hearty pat on the top of the machine. “Although, I’d suggest grabbing an extension cord and using a different outlet.”

“Why?”

“Blew a fuse while you were out,” Dean replied, “That’s why I was downstairs,” he added lamely.

“ . . . Right,” Gabe said sucking in his bottom lip, “but I never had a problem before.”

“You also probably never had a 20,000 BTU air conditioner before.”

“Got me there.”

“Do you know where you can plug it in?”

“I have an idea,” Gabe grinned, “but maybe I should keep it plugged into the wrong outlet and invite you back to help me find the right one. Sans shirt of course. Or maybe I should have you cut the grass first. Get you nice and tanned. I know I certainly didn’t mind the view, and I see that my dear Cassie didn’t eith--”

Castiel signed something that Dean didn’t quite understand, but didn't need to. Based on their expressions, he was able to fill in the blanks.

Dean conjured a polite smile as Gabe and Cas began a lively back and forth. Dean's eyes darted from Gabe to Castiel and back again. He felt like he was watching a tennis match.

Gabe signed something too fast for Dean to understand. Cas countered. Then Gabe signed something that was definitely not the word 'meet'.

Dean waited for them to finish their conversation. He knew his face was completely flushed and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Um, unless there’s anything else you need, I should probably get going.” Dean said reaching to shake Gabe’s hand. “And if you ever need anything, here’s my card,” he said handing one to Cas.

Gabe smirked. “What was it? Dean Winchester: A handyman for even the _hardest_ situations.”

Castiel started to go off at Gabe again and Dean saw himself out.

Safely on the other side of the front door, he took a moment to compose himself. And that’s when the signing became shouting. Cas and Gabe were clearly arguing about something. And as much as Dean wanted to eavesdrop, he also didn't want to get in the middle of a brother's squabble. He knew from experience exactly how dangerous those could be.


	5. Chapter 5

“So it looks like we should be able to open before the end of the year,” Charlie said without the enthusiasm Dean expected from that sort of statement. “It would be amazing if were ready before Halloween though. We'd hit a lot of casual traffic, but we'll really have to push to make it.”

“Mmhmm,” Dean answered, not out of disinterest, but out of concern for saying the wrong thing.

“Although, I don’t want to rush things unnecessarily. I don’t want to open prematurely, you know? Bite off more than we can chew. If we have to, we’ll wait until after the holidays. I wouldn't want us to get caught with our pants down, so to speak.”

“Yeeeeah . . .” Dean replied.

“But this would be perfect. We’re so close and if everything goes as planned, we could be ready. Like ready ready. What do you think?” Charlie asked.

“That sounds great,” Dean said.

“Awesome. And I was thinking that maybe you could wear a proper monkey suit. You look good in a suit and it would help our image.”

“That’s why you’re in charge, boss.” Dean wondered why Charlie even bothered. He wasn’t any good with this business thing. And he’d do whatever it took. Charlie knew that. She had to know that. So he wasn’t sure why she was still rambling.

“And about your wages, I was thinking you could work for about $0.75 an hour.”

Dean nodded.

“You’re not even listening to me.”

“Yep.”

“Dean I-really-wish-you-had-a-middle-name Winchester!” Charlie chided as she smacked him on the back of the head maybe a little harder than intended.

Dean rubbed his head and stared at Charlie. "What the hell, girl?"

"Have you heard anything I've said?" she said throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.

"Something about Halloween and casual traffic, but not rushing the whole deal. That and paying me slave wages."

"Slaves don't have wages." Charlie huffed. "And if you were listening, why didn't you say anything?"

"I trust you."

"Well maybe you shouldn't! We're in this together. Partners! You should have a say in what happens."

"I trust you."

"You said that already. And I told you that I want your opinion. I need to know that I'm not going to screw this up!"

"You're not. You're smart and resourceful and you'll figure this out. Moondoor is your domain. You're the Queen. And I'm your faithful liege." Dean said taking a knee before Charlie.

"Go screw yourself, Dean Winchester. Get up, you ass."

"The Queen commands and I obey." Dean said, rising from the floor.

If looks could kill, Dean would have been killed and revived and killed at least three times over. But Dean was in a mood and he refused to back down. At least until his phone buzzed. It was a text.

"Are you going to get that?" Charlie asked.

Dean felt like she was daring him not to. Which only made him want to check his message even more. “It might be a client,” he answered lamely, digging his phone out of his pocket.

> ???: _Is this Dean Winchester?_


	6. Chapter 6

The day of the next ASL meeting at the Cafe, Dean had a short list of errands and Mildred was the last item on his to-do list. He cringed at the poor word choice. Mildred would probably very much so like ‘to _do_ ’ Dean. He knew that most people wouldn’t see it straight away, but she was a feisty old bat.

Mildred wasn’t the sort of job he’d normally take, but she paid well and the work wasn’t terribly difficult. She mostly asked for help with household chores and the best part was that she didn’t hover. It gave Dean some time to think in peace. But she had a knack for knowing when something big was happening in Dean's life. Especially his sex-life. A tiny part of Dean suspected she could read his mind. Something Dean always wondered about after seeing all the kooks his Dad hung around. A few of them, like Missouri, really seemed legit. However, in Mildred's case, it was much more likely that she was just good at reading people. Dean figured he probably had some sort of subconscious tell he wasn't aware of. Or it could be that she just worked on the same wavelength as him. Despite their age difference, they were able to relate without a huge effort. And maybe that's was the real reason he kept coming back. Mildred was proof that someone like him could grow to be old and content, if just a little lonely at times.

So every week, Dean came by to help Mildred carry in her groceries. He did the dishes, polished the floor, and checked in to make sure that everything was in working order. And usually after his rounds, he’d stay and chat. But tonight he had someplace to be.

Dean made for the door hoping that Mildred wouldn’t notice his early departure. “Night, Millie!” he called.

“It’s Mildred, dear,” she answered, “And where are you off to in such a rush?"

"Oh, there's some event at the Cafe that I want to catch. I should've told you earlier," Dean apologized.

"And you didn't think to ask poor, old Millie?" she pouted.

"It's Mildred, dear," Dean teased. "And this ain't no Patsy Cline cover band."

"Don't you get fresh with me now. I'm hip. I can jive with the rock-n-rollers," Mildred answered with only the slightest hint that her 'modern' lingo was tongue-in-cheek. She shook her hips to prove that she was still agile enough to shake what her momma gave her.

Dean smiled. "It's actually a sign language group. No voices allowed."

"You know, I have a granddaughter who's Deaf. I could use the practice."

"Really?" Dean asked, his interest suddenly piqued.

"You bet! She's on a road trip to “find herself” or something like that. Actually, you just missed her. She's on her way to the city that never sleeps."

That wasn't the answer Dean was expecting. And it would be a shame not to bring her along now.

"Well in that case, I suppose you should come along. Need a ride?"

"No, you run along now, sweetie. I can tell you have someone special waiting for you. You don't need someone like me coming by to steal your thunder," Mildred added with a sly wink.

Dean grinned. “Offer’s still on the table if you change your mind.”

“Don’t tempt me now. I’ll swoop in and steal all the pretty boys.”

“Leaving me with all the gorgeous dames,” Dean said with a wink.

Mildred and Dean managed to hold back the laughter for three more seconds before they lost it.

"Thanks, Millie," Dean said when he finally caught his breath.

“Go get 'em, tiger."

"G’night, Mildred."

"Goodnight to you too! And I'm sure it will be. The Deaf are quite adept with their hands. Or so I’ve been told," she said, shooing him out the front door.

And with Mildred’s blessing, Dean arrived at the Cafe just as someone else was pulling out, earning him a spot in the lot.

Inside, he recognized a few people from the last event. It looked like there were a few new faces as well. But instead of one giant ring of people, it seemed that today people opted to break into smaller groups.

Michael and Raphael formed one group silently chatting, not even pretending to hide the sidelong glances they threw at the others. Dean didn’t know them well, but they definitely had an air of superiority about them. And while there was no concrete proof, he felt that they judged him and others negatively for having the audacity to hear.

He saw Gabe and Cyfer sitting together too. But not really together. They were next to each other, but they didn’t seem like they cared much for the other’s company . . . unlike the short, red-head that seemed to be working up the courage to talk to them.

At the next table, Charlie and Anna giggled like school girls over some private joke.

And Balthazar and Castiel sat with a woman he didn’t recognize.

There were a few others that Dean didn't quite remember scattered around the fringes of the group.

Dean wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. He decided to grab something to drink before picking a group. But before he made it to the line, he was derailed by a shout in his general direction.

“Over here, Dick!”

Dean turned to see Cas elbow Balthazar what was probably a bit harder than entirely necessary. He followed that up with a short lecture and ended with an emphatic twist of the wrist by this throat. Dean knew that sign meant voices off, but the way Castiel signed it looked more like Cas was threatening to rip out Balthazar's vocal cords. Dean made a mental note to never piss off Cas.

Balthazar just rolled his eyes and continued to wave Dean over to their table. Dean looked back to the counter and saw Ellen behind the counter. She was busy, but nodded a greeting to Dean who begrudgingly made his way toward Balthazar and company.

“Speaking of dick,” Balthazar said, opting for the more vulgar version of the sign, “When’s the last time you got some, Cassie?”

Cas was silent, but the look he shot at Balthazar was answer enough. Dean knew he wouldn't last long under that gaze, but Balthazar seemed unperturbed.

“Was it her?” he asked making some obscene faces at the woman Dean didn’t know.

“Not in this life, ________.” she said using a sign that Dean didn’t recognize, but that was clearly meant for Castiel. “Although, there’s always tonight,” she said with a smug half-smile.

Cas’s face softened slightly; that was a reaction Dean didn’t expect. An awkward lull in conversation fell upon the table, but thankfully Ellen arrived with a large cup of something steaming before things became too weird.

“On the house, kid. Looks like you could use this.” she said, patting Dean reassuringly on the shoulder.

Dean looked into the cup and breathed in deep. It was Benny’s ginger-chamomile tea. He wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed or grateful that Ellen knew this was exactly what he needed. Dean took a sip from the steaming cup. Too hot. But it was less painful than listening to the conversation triggered by his arrival.

“No? Really? I would’ve sworn . . .” Balthazar let that sentence fade away.

If looks could kill, Cas would’ve killed Balthazar ten times over by now. But he quickly recovered.

“Well, how about Hannah, love?” Balthazar said, continuing with the onslaught. “She was practically throwing herself at you for a while.”

Castiel remained stoic, but it was clear to Dean that last comment hit home pretty hard. Afterall, he was an expert at false bravado.

“Heeeeey,” Dean signed, setting his tea down on the table, “So I don’t think I know everybody.”

"Dean, I presume?" the woman in question asked rhetorically. "I’m Meg."

“Nice to uhh--- _meet_ you.” Dean said eying Balthazar throughout the exchange. Balthazar was barely able to contain himself.

Meg raised an eyebrow and smiled in a way that Dean couldn’t quite read. But whatever she was thinking, she still was drenched with an air of smugness. Dean tried to work out her story. She was intelligent, complex, and maybe a bit broken. He saw a bit of himself in her, like he did with Mildred. But unlike Mildred, he didn’t much like what he saw.

“Oh, Meg is definitely willing to _meet_ you,” Balthazar said throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “Isn’t that right, love?”

“Actually, I think he’s more your type.” she answered, pulling away from Balthazar’s embrace.

Cas ignored the whole exchange and it was clear to Dean that he was uncomfortable.

"You know what? I don't think either of you are quite my type."

Dean walked out of the Cafe and hoped that Cas had the wherewithal to follow. Once he felt that he had properly stormed out, he turned around. Cas was standing much closer than Dean had expected, but he didn’t back off.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean didn’t know what to make of this gross violation of personal space. Part of him felt that this was Cas’s (extremely inappropriate) version of flirting, but another part thought it was more likely just another one of his (growing list of) quirks. Dean thought about pulling the guy into a reassuring hug, but Cas didn’t exactly give off the hugging kind of vibe. So instead, Dean just shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

"Don’t worry about it," Dean mumbled looking around the lot or rather anywhere but at Cas. He felt Castiel’s eyes before he finally looked up and met his gaze; he looked like he had a message of life and death to deliver to Dean.

“Thank you,” Cas repeated.

Dean could feel the tension of words unspoken. Thoughts without voice charged the air surrounding them like static. And that feeling of dread where you know if you can’t ground yourself, you’ll have to deal with the shock. Dean wanted to say something--anything--but he was afraid it might hurt Cas.

"Spiteful ex-girlfriend?" Dean voiced, immediately wishing he had said almost anything else.

Castiel looked at Dean like he had shown up to the masquerade ball in a Batman costume instead of a tux.

"Or um . . . boyfriend?" Dean guessed again hoping he hadn’t offended the guy. "I don't judge. I've had my share of both." he added with a sheepish smile.

Castiel eyed Dean curiously.

“But why _didn’t_ you get with Meg. If you're into chicks that is. I mean she’s hot, and despite being friends with Balthazar she seems pretty alright.”

“I don’t know. It just. It didn’t feel right.” Cas answered to Dean's surprise.

“But you liked her?”

“I like her.” Cas replied. Dean was acutely aware of Cas’s change of tense. “And Balthazar isn’t that bad. He’s all talk really.”

Dean wasn’t quite sure what to make of that statement.

“He’s a close friend. Like a brother. He was there for me when no one else was. I mean, Gabriel is family and I love him. But he was more like a father than a brother while we were growing up. It was Balthazar who was there for me when Gabriel wasn't.”

Dean knew he just heard something that Cas probably didn’t share with any old stranger he ran into on the street. And given their history, Dean figured Cas quite literally runs into people on the street.

Dean thought how hard it must have been for Cas to share something so personal. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Why would Cas share something like that him? Sure, he had his own experiences with family, or lack thereof, growing up. Maybe Cas could read minds. Maybe psychics were real and those people his dad gave all his money to were really communicating with his mom from beyond the grave.

Dean laughed out loud.

“Is something funny?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. Well . . . it’s a long sto--”

“I would like to kiss you.” Cas interrupted.

Dean balked. That wasn’t just out in left field. It was another fucking stadium. Dean wasn’t sure how to proceed. Was that Castiel's attempt at humor? Or was he serious? What about Meg? Well, bad example. Dean swung both ways. It would be pretty obnoxious of him to assume he was the only bisexual in town. And Balthazar did make that dick joke. But it was about Meg. Who he was pretty sure didn’t have a dick. Well maybe she did. He tried not to judge.

“And nice to fuck you too.” Dean joked. Cas was good looking and Dean wouldn't mind a kiss or twelve, but he had to be joking? People didn't actually ask permission to kiss. It just sorta happened, right?

Cas didn’t even crack a smile. Okay, wrong tactic.

“I didn’t mean . . . What I meant was . . . It’s just that before you . . ." Dean paused and took a breath. "I’d like to kiss you too.”

Dean held his hand inches from Castiel's cheek. He wet his lips and looked into Castiel's eyes. He searched for any sign that this wasn’t okay. Cas didn't back off, but Dean didn’t close the distance.

"Are you sur--"

He was cut off by Castiel's lips brushing up against his own. They were dry, but soft. It took Dean a second to remember to react. He closed his eyes and kissed back. The gesture was so chaste, that Dean kept his hands to himself. An embrace seemed too intimate.

Dean pulled back first. Then without warning Castiel lunged forward. Their next kiss was all teeth and noses in the wrong places at the wrong time.

Dean tried to wrest control of the situation when he heard a commotion from inside the Cafe. A large portion of the Cafe’s patrons were standing by the storefront. Some were smiling. Others groaned. But all eyes were on Dean and Cas.

Dean felt the flush rush into his cheeks, but Cas either didn’t notice their audience or else he didn’t care.

So that was a thing that happened. And there was a Cafe full of witnesses. Did they have to go back to the Cafe? Dean was supposed to give Charlie a ride home. But maybe she’d be okay without one. After all, she was pretty cozy with Anna. He decided Charlie would forgive him. He should tell her first though. But that would involve going back into the Cafe. Dean could hear Balthazar already. At least he'd cool his jets about Cas getting some dick. Maybe he should just text her.

“I liked that.” Cas announced.

“Apparently, so did they.” Dean said gesturing at the cafe windows.

“I really enjoyed that.”

“And I haven’t even given you a proper kiss yet.” Dean said with a wicked grin before showing Cas exactly what he meant by that.

There was another “Hoo-rah!” from the Cafe.

“Do you think it would be worse to leave or to go back in?” Dean asked.

"What do you mean?" Cas asked.

“Well, if we leave there is definitely going to be gossip. I'm sure we'll never hear the end of it from Balthazar.”

“Why?”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Because when two people leave a social outing together it usually implies . . ." Dean paused. "It's a little less this," Dean said signing 'meet', "And a lot more _this_ ," he said altering the sign to mean 'sex'.

"Why would they assume--"

“Don’t worry about it, Cas. Know what? We should head back in.”

“But you said . . .”

“Yeah, I say a lot of things.” Dean replied.

\--*-----

Dean and Cas were greeted with scattered applause upon re-entering the Cafe.

“Surprised to see you back so soon.” Balthazar said, hoping to illicit a reaction.

“Or at all.” Meg said with a devilish sneer.

Dean pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything he'd regret. He looked at Cas and raised his eyebrows in an 'I told you so' fashion. Cas shrugged and sat next to Balthazar.

“So you guys aren’t going to go fuck?” Balthazar wasted no time at all.

“MY VIRGIN EARS!” Gabe shouted and signed simultaneously. “I cannot hear! God has stricken me deaf so that I cannot further sully my pure thoughts with such foulness!”

“There’s nothing virgin about you,” Anna retorted in sign.

“And no one _said_ anything except you.” Meg added.

“Oh right. I was born this way. I was so overwhelmed thinking about my baby brother hitting that nice piece of ass over there that I forgot.”

Cas rolled his eyes so hard his head followed suit.

“So,” Dean said trying to steer the conversation anywhere but here, “How do you sign ‘shut your cakehole’?”

Balthazar smiled and started to sign something Dean was sure was probably X-rated.

“Cas, how do you sign it?” Dean asked.

Meg snorted her approval. Castiel thought a moment.

“It’s not that hard, babe.” Meg mocked.

Cas glared and to Dean’s surprise she backed down.

“Like this.” Cas finally said bringing the back of his thumb to his lips and then harshly snapping his pointer and middle fingers closed over it. It sort of looked like he was grabbing the words from the air and shoving them back into his mouth.

Dean turned to Gabe and signed, “Shut your cakehole, dick.”

Clearly Dean was getting the hang of this whole sign language thing.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke from another nightmare.

In Dean’s dreams, everything was always hell and heat and hurt. He knew a shrink would have something to say about his childhood and his mother, but he preferred not to think about that. Instead, he dragged his ass out of bed and steeled himself to ignore his problems.

He straightened his room. By the time he recognized he was sorting his laundry by not only color and material, but prioritizing what he would wash first, he realized it was his thoughts, not his clothes that needed organizing.

\--*-----

Dean showered, dressed, and drove to the Cafe. Benny was on the early morning shift again. Dean walked directly to the counter, but Benny ducked into the kitchen before he could place an order.

Benny returned bearing a tray with a garlic bagel Dean could smell before saw it. It was accompanied by a healthy serving of peanut butter and a steaming cup of black coffee.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Benny interrupted. “Oh! And for you, brother,” he said jogging back to the kitchen. He returned with a freshly baked almond flaxseed muffin he'd never be able to admit he actually liked.

“And uhh . . . one of those . . . um . . .” Dean mumbled as Benny poured some hot water into a cup. He filled a small teabag with dried yellow flowers and some other bits and bobs that Dean couldn't name.

Benny placed the tray holding both orders in front of Dean.

“I'm short-staffed, so if you deliver this for me, it's on the house.” Benny said with the sort of tone that Dean recognized was not a request, but rather an extremely polite demand.

Dean nodded. Benny picked up Dean’s confusion and lifted his chin in the direction of the Cafe’s only other patron at this obscene hour.

He had messy brown hair, dirty gym clothes, ostentatious yellow earbuds, and was sitting in Dean’s spot.

Dean rolled the request through his head. He didn't want to see _anyone_ right now. Especially not Cas. He was only barely able to deal with Benny. He needed some time alone with his thoughts. Dean shivered remembering the kind of thoughts he had in his dream. Strike that--he just wanted to have some tea. God, he loved that tea. Sam would never let it go if he found out. Good thing he was all the way out in New York City. If word ever got back to him . . .

Well, it's not like anyone knew. Except Benny. But Benny could keep a secret. Time had proved that. Wait, did Benny know about Cas? He wasn’t working the night they . . . But word traveled fast. Doubly so in the Cafe. After all, Ellen knew about the tea. Dean tutted. He was probably overthinking it. Morning shifts were the worst. Benny was tasked with most of the day's baking. He was probably grateful for the extra pair of (reluctantly) willing hands.

Dean forced a smile, sighed and carried the tray to Cas who accepted it without ceremony.

Not sure what to do next, Dean took the seat opposite him and they sat in silence for what seemed like ages while Cas listened to his music with a greater intensity that one normally listens to music.

Oh, God. He hates me, Dean thought. He instantly regretted everything. But then again, Cas asked. Maybe it wasn’t a good kiss. Of course, it was a good kiss. You’re Dean fucking Winchester, he assured himself. The ladies are lined up for this. And the fellows. But Cas wasn’t a normal guy. Case in point: he asked permission for kisses. Plus there was that whole thing in the basement. Dean was shirtless and Cas seemed completely indifferent. Why wouldn’t he want to kiss Dean then? Sure, he wasn’t in the same shape as when he was twenty. And dammit, maybe it was vain, but he still looked pretty damn good without a shirt on. But not everyone wants to make out with a stranger. And it _was_ hot that day. Maybe he smelled a bit funky . . . ARGH! Or maybe it was Gabe. That guy was certainly a strange charac--

“Sorry.” Cas said interrupting Dean's train of thought.

Dean shook his head. “Huh?”

“The other day,” Cas continued, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have . . .”

“Shouldn’t have what?” Dean said retreating back into his own thoughts. Shouldn't have kissed me? He mentally kicked himself. He should have said no.

“. . . been so forward.” Cas shifted his gaze down to his coffee. “We barely know each other. I just felt . . .” Cas said trailing off.

“Felt what?” Dean asked as a chill ran down his spine. It had to be a coincidence, but it was creepy nonetheless. The way Cas finished the sentences Dean was unable to give voice to. It was as if Cas was reading Dean's thoughts. It was a ridiculous idea. People can’t read other people’s minds. Or could they? If he was reading Dean’s thoughts . . . no wonder he was apologizing. Dean had had some intensely explicit ideas about Castiel recently. Like how good he would look straddling Dean on his--

“Nevermind. It’s not of import.”

“C’mon Cas. What are you talking about?”

“It’s just that I felt-- I thought-- that we had a . . .” Cas stared rather intently at his cup of coffee.

“What? Some sort of profound bond?” Dean replied half-jokingly.

“Yes.” Castiel answered without a hint of facetiousness in his tone.

And that wasn’t the answer Dean was expecting. He took a moment to be sure that Cas was serious.

“Cas, you’re a bit, um, _eccentric_ , but there's no denying you're also easy on the eyes."

Castiel raised an eyebrow and cocked his head like a confused puppy. “How so?"

Dean rolled his eyes. “What I mean is that you’re not like most other people. And we don’t know each other very well yet, but I um . . .”

“I know as a child you were diagnosed as selectively mute. Your mother died when you were young and your father wasn’t around much. You don’t have much contact with the rest of your family. Except your brother. But you don’t tell him anything of value. Instead, you just seem t--”

“Yeah, well none of that is a big secret,” Dean cut Castiel off. This is not what he needed to hear right now.

“Really?” Cas said without really asking the question. “How many other people know this?”

Dean compiled a shortlist. Very short. How the hell did Cas know anyway? Dean never said anything about this to him. The only person he told recently was Gabe. And he didn't give him all of that info. Was Gabe running around telling everyone what Dean thought was said in confidence? Sure, he was an ass, but not the loose-lipped sort of ass. But then again, maybe he was. He was hard to read. And Cas and Gabe were brothers.

“Fine. Whatever. Your turn then.” Dean grumbled.

“Huh? My turn for what?”

“Well, since you already seem to know so much about me, it’s only fair you tell me something about you. What brings you to the Cafe at this ungodly hour, Cas? And how did you even get here, the lot was empty.”

“The coffee is good. And I ran.”

Dean knew where Cas lived. He couldn’t have run . . . He reevaluated the man sitting across the table. He was broader than Dean remembered. Next he noticed the lines of muscle under shorts that were a bit too tight in the thigh. He realized he never really got a good look at Cas before. He didn’t realized it, until now, but Cas was always wearing a bit too much. Which was a shame. His body was a gift to this world.

“Do you make it a habit to run before the break of dawn? Are you trying to get hit by a car or something?” Dean blurted, before his actual thoughts could make their way from his brain to his mouth.

Castiel stared at Dean. He blinked once and said, “Actually, a few weeks ago, I was almost hit by a car . . .”

“. . .” Dean uselessly opened and shut his mouth a few times. He knew he couldn't avoid this forever, although part of him had hoped he could. If it had to happen, Dean wanted it to be on his terms. He had spent so much time rehearsing this conversation, but he never predicted it would go like this.

“You look like you have something to say.”

Yeah, Dean thought, I do have something to say. How did you manage to not bring this up before. We stood right by my car the other night and you didn't say anything. And the way Cas bounced over Baby’s trunk you’d think that this happened to him all the time. Either that, or he had some killer reflexes.

“Actually, now that I think of it,” Cas said pointing at Dean's car, “It looked a lot like yours.”

Dean nodded. He could do this. He panicked as words tangled in his throat. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He couldn’t keep the truth from Cas. He’d find out eventually. And it would be better if he heard it from Dean. Plus he knew he’d feel better after he was finished even if his stomach was in knots right now. He told Cas his story from the very beginning. Castiel listened, nodding his head at all the right times and never interrupting.

When Dean finished, he stared at his hands. He concentrated on the color of his skin where his fingers were clasped tightly together. He studied the red and white of his skin. And when he finally looked up, he saw that Cas was closer than before. He could feel Castiel's breath on his face and the fabric of Cas’s shorts ghost across his knees. There was no real contact. It was like that game he played with Sam when they were younger. The one where you get a close as you can without touching until the other person went mad. Except now Dean felt as if there was a physical weight to this intentional lack of contact. If this were anyone else, Dean would be tempted to lean in for a kiss.

Before he could give in to temptation, Dean sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. Sitting upright, the rising sun shone directly into Dean's eyes. He rubbed the harsh light away, then remembered he had an appointment early that morning. Dean didn't want Castiel to think he was running off, so he offered him a ride. His appointment was with Gabe, so it wasn’t like it was out of the way.

\--*-----

The ride was filled with awkward silence from beginning to end. Actually, it started with Metallica’s Black Album blaring for a good half second before Dean lowered the volume with an embarrassed smile. Castiel seemed unperturbed by the ordeal.

In the silence between songs, Cas told his story.

“My family resents me.”

Dean said nothing, but he did turn his eyes away from the road to look at Cas.

“I’m not like them,” Castiel continued.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Dean said.

“You couldn't understand.”

Dean struggled with how respond as he pulled up in front of Gabe and Cas’s house. He didn’t want to seem insensitive, but he also didn’t want to pry too much into what was clearly a personal story. Be careful what you wish for, Dean thought. Back in the Cafe he said it was Cas’s turn to share. And now he was sharing.

"I might if you’d tell me, Cas," Dean said hoping he wasn’t putting too much pressure on the guy.

Castiel looked Dean in the eye. He seemed to be searching for something. Honesty, perhaps? Dean fought against the urge to look away.

“Maybe you’re right,” Cas said more to himself than to Dean.

Dean pulled the key from the ignition and waited for Cas to continue.

"I'm hearing," Cas started.

"And I'm all ears, Cas," Dean encouraged.

"That's the problem," Castiel continued, "My ears work as they’re meant to. I'm not deaf. I _can_ hear."

"Wait a minute. So, like, it's not just Gabe? Your whole family? They all [sign]?" Dean said signing the last word instead of voicing it.

"Pretty much."

"So how's that a problem? You're great at signing. It almost looks like -- this is going to sound dumb, but uh, the way you sign, it looks good. It’s almost like a song. You know? With some people it’s just words, but . . ."

"But I'm not like them,” Cas continued.

"Alright, but what's the problem? Gabe doesn't seem to mind. And your parents. They were hearing too, right?"

"Gabriel’s changed . . . for the better," Castiel said looking away, "but Michael and Raphael, they--"

“Michael and Raphael are you brothers?!” Dean blurted before he could reign in his shock.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? My relation to them isn't your fault.” Cas said as he tried to understand Dean's apology.

“I mean, I feel sorry for you. I don’t mean to be rude-- Actually, I _do_ mean to be rude. They’re sorta giant dickbags. Like someone shoved the elitist stick up their asses. You know what I mean?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I believe I do. But you can't understand. That's what we were raised to believe. Our parents were often away, leaving us under the care of my aunt. She was an adult, but she wasn't much older than any of us; she was only Michael's senior by five years. And she wanted us to be perfect. But we were never perfect enough. She wanted to _fix_ us.

Fix? What the . . . Dean wasn’t sure that he wanted to know more. But he also didn’t want Cas to feel like this wasn’t important. But where did you go from here? Dean widened his eyes and silently urged Cas to continue.

"Michael and Raphael did their part. Gabriel spent his time hatching schemes to undermine her command. He always followed the rules while subverting their intent. And Lucifer was th--"

"Dude, no offense, but Castiel, Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael are all weird Bible names. But whatever, maybe your parents were religious or something. But who the hell, no pun intended, names their fucking kid _Lucifer_? I'm sure that kid grew up great." Dean said rolling his eyes.

"Well what did you think?"

"About what?"

"Lucifer. You met him at the Cafe."

"I don't think so. That's not exactly the kind of name you forget, Cas."

"Oh, right. He's calling himself Cyfer now." Cas recalled.

Dean remembered. “He’s named after the freaking devil, man. Of course, he’s calling himself Cyfer!” Dean exclaimed, “But he didn't really stand out. I mean, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he did seem a bit off. My condolences, man.” Dean said turning and signing the word ‘sympathy’ to Cas.

“HANDS ON THE WHEEL!” Cas shouted as he grabbed the steering wheel.

Dean unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh. Cas blinked and looked around. They were parked in front of his house and had been for quite some time. Castiel swallowed his embarrassment.

The contrast of Cas's panic and the seriousness of their conversation was too much. Dean let loose a chuckle, but his laugh looked like it hit Cas right in the gut.

“I’m sorry, Cas," Dean said choking back a chuckle, "I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I-- I didn’t notice you parked.”

“It happens, dude." Dean consoled, "Hey, I don’t want to make you feel like you gotta tell me everything, but if you ever want to talk . . .”

“Aren’t you running late?” Cas said tersely.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out with an audible sigh. “Yeah. I guess I should get going.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean couldn’t find Gabe’s doorbell, but that didn’t matter since he brought his own personal door opener. Cas unlocked the front door and made a beeline for the second floor. Dean waited in the doorway shifting his weight from foot to foot debating what to do next. He belatedly realized that without Cas as proof, it looked like he broke in. He didn’t want to go creeping around the house so he just stood in the doorway. Maybe he should just go back outside and look for the damned bell. Fortunately, Gabe walked by just as Dean was about to head back outside.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Dean signed to Gabe who was busy staring at his phone. Probably texting Dean to ask him where the hell he was. Dean moved into Gabe's line of vision.

Gabe looked up and it was clear that he wasn’t expecting to see anyone, let alone Dean, in his home. That’s if the high-pitched wail he let out was an accurate measure of his surprise. Dean had to physically recoil from the shriek.

Recovering, Gabe asked, “How did you get in?”

“Cas," Dean answered. Gabe raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Dean felt an explanation was necessary before untrue assumptions were made. "We bumped into each other at the Cafe this morning and I gave him a ride.”

“A ride,” Gabriel said with a smirk. Dean forced a smile choosing to ignore the implied innuendo.

“So uh, what’s the job for today?” Dean asked changing the subject.

“Actually, it might be more than a one day job. Follow me.” Gabe said grinning as if he had just hatched a nefarious plan.

Gabe led Dean to a bedroom on the second floor. A rather bare bedroom. There were no furnishings and the walls were a sickening shade of yellow. The kind that may have been pretty once, but had evolved into a snot colored disaster.

“First you have to strip the paint." Gabe said gesturing at the walls, "I haven’t decided on paint or wallpaper yet. I have a few of my favorites in the corner if you want to take a look.”

Dean scratched at the paint with his thumb. Underneath was something green, then red, then white, orange, green again, blue . . . Did noone think to scrape the paint before just tacking on another layer? He picked some more paint from the wall to reveal the tackiest green and blue floral design he had ever seen. And Dean has seen some pretty tacky wallpaper in his time. Afterall, he practically grew up living out of motel rooms that charged by the hour.

“Need anything else from me?” Gabe asked.

“Your word that there’s no lead or asbestos in the walls for a start,” Dean answered.

“Scout’s honor,” Gabe replied holding up his three middle fingers in salute before taking his leave.

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. He actually wasn't sure what to expect when Gabe said he had another job. His previous work had been so trivial, he wasn't prepared for actual labor. He ran back out to his car and rummaged through the trunk for a few tools.

Inside, he saw the red notification light on his phone blinking. A missed call, but no voicemail. The number was blocked. Probably some spammer claiming he had won an all expense paid cruise for the low, low price of his name, address, and social security number. But he has a nagging feeling that was the case. He hoped he was wrong.

No, it’s just some asshole preying on the old and stupid, Dean told himself. He deleted the call from his history and stared at the wall. He had his work cut out for the day. He didn't bring any chemical strippers, but the room wasn't that big. If he didn’t know better, this might have been a large walk-in closet. Plus, Dean could do with a good workout and maybe the exercise would lower his anxiety. He grabbed his sandpaper clappers, sighed, and got to work.

It wasn't long before Dean heard something that wasn't the grit of sandpaper over an ungodly number of layers of old paint. His phone vibrated. It was a robocall. It had to be. Dean ignored it. When it stopped buzzing, he waited. No voicemail. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Who knew that telemarketers could be so persistent? Dean continued to sand off the paint when another call came in. Dean put down the sandpaper and saw the same unknown number flashing on the screen. Clearly, they weren't going to relent until he answered.

“Hello?” Dean answered hoping that if there was a person on the other side they could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“Dean Winchester,” a serpentine voice said with recognition, not inquiry. The voice was so greasy that Dean felt dirty just listening to it. He couldn’t believe he rented an apartment off the guy, not to mention the fact he used to work for him. But that was a lifetime ago.

“Al, what can I do for you?” Dean said trying to remember if he sent his last rent check on time.

“You know the answer to that.” Al replied. Dean didn't, but he could almost feel his greasy smile through the phone.

"Afraid not. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Dean said using all his energy to keep the sarcasm from edging into this tone.

“Did you receive my letter?”

Letter . . . letter . . . letter . . . Dean tried to think of what it could--shit. The rent thing. Dean had put off giving his notice. He didn't know how to go about not renewing his lease, much less go looking for a new place to stay. He fell onto this place. And before that, he was pretty much living out of his car. But he couldn't afford the rent hike. He struggled to pay his rent now. This wasn't how Dean envisioned breaking his ties with Al, but it’s not like he had a choice.

“Right, the letter. I, uh, I don’t think I’m gonna renew my lease.”

“Do you have another place lined up?” he asked with what sounded like genuine concern.

Dean would have believed it too if he didn't know better. But he did. Al "helped" Dean back when he was struggling to make ends meet for himself and Sammy after they severed ties with their dad. Al was able to offer an “alternate revenue source” and Dean was able to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. He wasn't proud of how he earned that money, but he was proud of what Sam was able to accomplish because of it. And if push came to shove, he _could_ work for Al again. But deep in his heart, he knew it wasn't worth it. He couldn't go back to that life. Not after he'd come so far. He's sooner sell Baby for the cash. And you could bet your ass that the only way to take her away from Dean was over his cold, dead body.

Dean mustered all his courage and poured all his conviction into the next words he spoke. “Actually, I think I do.”

“Might be tricky. Even good plans fall through," Al warned, "Better offers come in. You don’t want to be left without a bed to sleep on. If it’s the rent you’re worried about, perhaps we can work out an alternative payment plan.”

It _almost_ sounded as if Al had Dean's best interest at heart. Almost. But Dean could practically see Al's predatory smile. The one that knew Dean would say yes. But that's where Al was wrong. Dean wasn’t the same person he was. And he wouldn't, _couldn't_ , do that again. Alternative payment plan? Dean knew what that meant. And he was better than that. He didn't need Al's ‘charity.’ And he didn't owe anything to him either. Benny who taught him that.

“Dean! Everything okay? It doesn’t sound like you’re working very hard.” Gabe teased.

"Who's that?" Al asked, the surprise evident in his voice.

“Oh, hey, that’s my new landlord. I gotta go.” Dean said hanging up without waiting for a response.

“Well, I knew you liked me kiddo, but Lord?”

“Oh, no. Sorry.” Dean mumbled and then signed his last statement for Gabe. “Wait, how do you sign ‘landlord’?” Dean asked fingerspelling the word.

“Like this,” Gabe instructed. He held both hands palm down and flexing his thumbs, index, and middle fingers.

“On second thought, I’ll just ask Cas,” Dean said after evaluating the sign. He had a feeling that wasn’t quite right.

Gabe smiled. “Suit yourself," he said. Then he backtracked. "If you don't mind me asking, why were you talking about landlords?”

“Oh, well. It’s complicated,” Dean answered. Gabe raised his eyebrows, his interest evident. “I mean it’s not really . . .” Dean continued. He fumbled for words he didn't know with his limited sign language vocabulary. Not that Dean was a terrible signer. He'd been practicing with Charlie, but most of what he wanted to say was beyond their basic conversational topics.

He gave up and started to pull out his phone to just text the situation to Gabe.

“Don't," he said, "You’re doing great. Keep going!” Gabe signed sans voice.

It was a simple gesture, but fill Dean with a sudden burst of confidence. He thought a moment and then continued. “My old . . . not friend, like the opposite of a friend. But not my enemy. He acted like a friend, but he wasn’t. Do you know what I mean?”

Gabe nodded.

Dean had no idea why he was telling Gabe any of this. But he figured there was no backing out now. He continued. “His name was Al and he set me up with this place -- _my_ place back when I had nothing. I wasn’t in a good place back then. And he helped me. Well, I thought he was helping me, but he was just helping himself. And the rent was cheap. If I couldn’t afford it . . . we had an arrangement. But he’s going to jack my rent and I can’t afford it. And I’m don’t want another “arrangement.” But I also don’t have a new place lined up yet. He’s trying to convince me to stay. But I can’t. Well, I _can_. But I can’t. Does that make any sense?”

“Hrm . . .” Gabe stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger, eyebrows furrowed.

“And he was spooked when he heard your voice. I panicked and said you were my landlord. I figured that was the easiest way to stop him from trying to convince me to stay.”

Dean tried to think of another way to explain his situation. It was infuriating. What Dean really wanted to say was 'some ass clown that took advantage of me when I was vulnerable and thinks he can do it again, but he's got another thing coming,' but most of those words weren't in his working vocabulary.

“Well, as your new landlord, I’ll require a month’s rent as security and the first month is on me.”

“What?!” Dean said obviously flabbergasted.

Gabe repeated his last statement a little slower.

“No, I think I got it,” Dean interrupted. “I was just confused about you know, the whole lack of a background check and me like, actually even agreeing to move in. I haven't even seen the place yet.”

“Here it is,” Gabe said gesturing at the room.

“Here? As in right here. As in this room here? With you?” Dean stuttered.

“And Cas,” Gabe added.

“And your brother," Dean said throwing Gabe a sidelong glance.

“Is that a problem?” Gabe asked.

“No. I mean, I’m working on the room. It’s a good room. I get that, but like, don’t you think you should at least talk it over with Cas first?”

“This is _my_ house,” Gabe signed with a flash of possessiveness. Less than a second later, his face lightened. He said, “I’m sure the three of us could sit down and discuss it though.”

“Well, how about rent? Because I’m a handyman for hire. I’m sorta priced out of this neighborhood.”

“Well, I'm sure I could work something out with you. You’ve been doing a lot of wor--”

"Like I said before, I'm not really into the whole 'alternative payment plan' thing," Dean interjected.

"Right, well . . . I was just thinking that I could deduct the cost of labor from your rent. But if you want to pay full price, I wouldn't object,"

“Ah, right, thanks. Sorry. I've just had some bad experiences. That sounds awesome. But I maybe I should mull this over before I say yes.”

“Of course! You’re always welcome here.” Gabe said before leaving Dean to work in silence for the rest of the day.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean made a good dent, literally and figuratively, in the paint. The wallpaper was something he’d deal with another day. Right now he was exhausted, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. He would no doubt be sore tomorrow, but he was feeling better about the whole apartment situation. He packed up his things and went home.

And that's where he found Charlie. She was sitting on his couch furiously pounding away at her keyboard. Trying not to disturb her, he turned the knob of the door before gently pulling it shut behind him.

"WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO BE THE HEALER? Screw it! I'm tanking this round and I hope you all die!"

“Working hard, like always I see," Dean said taking a seat next to her on the couch.

“Shut it! A girl’s gotta keep her sanity. Although, I suppose at the moment I’m not doing a great job of that either.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would be tempted to agree with that statement,” Dean said smiling and leaning into Charlie lovingly.

Charlie pushed him off with her elbow. She needed space to play. “Just one more match," Charlie growled, eyes glued to the screen, "I need to stomp things.”

“Whatever it takes.” Dean said as he fiddled with his phone feigning indifference to Charlie’s game. But truth be told, it was actually deeply invested in the outcome of the match. He watched out of the corner of his eye, not that Charlie would have noticed. All of her attention was on the game.

At the end of the match someone commented how Charlie’s character shouldn’t be voted MVP. Something about how she didn’t kill enough things. Charlie was having none of it though. She shot back that she was playing on a _laptop_ on a _couch_ and she should be given a _goddamn medal_. She also pointed out that she did better than anyone else on her team was able to do with that character.

“Usually she’s got this entire rig set up. Like three separate monitors and surround sound and this fancy mouse that looks like something out of an episode of Doctor Who!” Dean shouted in the general direction of Charlie’s laptop.

“I’m not on group speak.” Charlie said, giving Dean a look that was half-way between an eye-roll and laughing at the dumb oaf.

Dean watched Charlie attempt to make an angry face. She squinted her eyes and everything, but she was too adorable for words. And Dean knew that Charlie knew it too. Too cute for her own damn good. Dean held his tongue. He was a good friend and didn’t want to insult her. But truth-be-told, his silence was mostly self-serving. He remembered Charlie's ‘bad girl’ phase with all the clarity as if it were yesterday. She desperately wanted to break out of the ‘cute zone.’ Needless to say, she wasn’t very cute and it wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone who got in her way. As her best friend, Dean earned the brunt of Charlie’s wrath. He had the scars to prove it. In his defense though, she was surprisingly strong for someone her size.

Charlie never quite forgave herself for that despite the fact that she had long paid back her debt in Dean’s mind. That’s how Dean got wrapped up in this whole Moondoor thing. Charlie knew Dean was in a financial bind and needed more steady work. She felt that she owed it to him to help him out. It wasn't his usual scene, but Charlie knew Dean didn’t lack the skills for the job. He was resourceful. On the other hand, Dean was fully aware that Charlie didn’t _need_ him. Which is part of the reason Dean never told her about the whole rent situation. If she knew, Charlie would offer to pay. But Dean didn’t like owing anyone. Not that Charlie would see it that way. Best case scenario, she’d offer to let him sleep at her place. But also he knew what a strain that would be. Charlie was like the little sister that Dean never knew he wanted. They were always together. But choosing to be together and being stuck together were two very different beasts.

Besides, he was moving in with Gabe and Cas so he had nothing to worry about. Oh god. He was moving in with Gabe and _Cas_. Charlie was going to have a field day with that.

“Okay, out with it!” Charlie demanded.

“Huh?” Dean took a moment to process that someone was speaking to him.

“C’mon! You can’t keep it from me forever,” Charlie pouted.

“Keep what away from you?” Dean asked with wide-eyed innocence.

The pout turned to a glare.

“Alright, alright!” Dean relented, “So Gabe asked me to move into his place.”

“Gabe?" Charlie said the name incredulously, "Like _Gabe_ Gabe? Like Castiel’s _brother_ Gabe? Are you serious? But what about the Cafe? And Cas. This isn’t a freaky incest thing, is it? _Damn_ Dean.”

“I said I was moving in. Not making moves.” he rebutted.

“Why? Isn’t this place,” Charlie said gesturing to the room around her, “What was it? ‘The bargain of the century’ or something?”

“Yeah, well . . . I guess it's time to move on,” Dean said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Riiight. So where exactly are you moving? Gabe’s a client so it can’t be too far, right? We can still work on Moondor, right?”

“Of course, I'm still game for Moondor. And I'm just moving across town.”

“What?!" Charlie exclaimed, "Since when could you afford that?”

“Well, actually, I don’t . . . I didn't actually ask how much rent would.”

“So you’re moving to the rich side of town, but you don’t know how much rent is? What gives? You got a sugar daddy hooking you up? Is Cas loaded? Is Gabe loaded? Someone's got to be loaded.”

Dean looked at the floor. He used every last ounce of his willpower not to make a joke involving the multiple meanings of the word ‘load.’

“Alright, I want all the dirty deets. Well, not the dirty ones. Not my cup of tea if you get what I mean, but AHH! Let me live out my wildest fantasies through you,” Charlie said throwing herself at Dean like a love struck maiden in a harlequin novel.

“Slow down!” Dean said brushing Charlie away, “It’s not like that. Gabe has an extra room. Well, actually I think he has a few extra rooms. But that's not the point. The point is that he said he could offer me a discount because I’ve been helping out with the place. And I’m not into Gabe. I mean, he’s got this lowkey hotness going on, but well, that’s it. And as for Cas, it was just a kiss. It’s not that big a deal.”

“From what I hear, it’s a very big deal,” Charlie replied smugly.

“Says who?” Dean asked doubting Charlie’s statement.

“Says Anna,” she answered as if the name was enough to end the conversation.

“Anna . . . ” Dean said trying to place her, “You mean the hot, redheaded friend from college I saw you cozying up with at the Cafe, Anna?”

“The one and only,” Charlie said with the smug smile of conquest.

“And what does she know about Cas,” Dean asked a bit too defensively.

“Only everything,” Charlie bragged.

“Like what?”

“Like how Cas has never had a boyfriend before,” Charlie answered practically dancing around Dean.

“Well, sometimes, it can take a while to come out,” Dean retorted, “I mean, family and friends aren’t always so accepting. Look at me," Dean said gesturing at himself with open hands.

“ _Or_ a girlfriend,” Charlie interrupted without missing a beat.

“WHAT?!” Dean exclaimed in disbelief, “Shut up.”

“I only speak the truth.” Charlie said smugly crossing her arms across her chest.

“But I mean, Cas has got to be like what . . . thirty-something? That’s . . . no. You’ve gotta be wrong. I mean, for someone who isn’t . . . ‘experienced’ he sure was a hella good kisser.”

“Whoa,” Charlie said, completely taken aback. “He ranks on Dean’s list of good kissers? Definitely a keeper.”

“Shut your cakehole.”

“Just sayin’.”

“Just say you’re wrong. That’s what I need to hear.” Dean said playfully ruffling Charlie’s hair.

“Nope.” Charlie said running her fingers through her hair trying to undo the mess that Dean made.

“C’mon. I know you’re not into dudes, but he’s hot right?”

“Oh, definitely.” Charlie said shaking her head up and down in such an exaggerated way that Dean wasn’t sure if it was sincere or sarcastic.

“And you’re telling me that hot guy’s never been with another guy . . . or gal. Biblically speaking that is.”

“I didn’t say that. I just said he’s never had a significant other.”

“Same thing.”

“Really?” Charlie said tutting in Dean's general direction, “Name one person you’ve been with that you'd call a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. And before you get started, fuck buddies definitely don’t count.”

“Well there’s Lisa.”

“Fine," Charlie conceded, "Anyone else?”

“Well, uhhh, Aaron?”

“No way. You were so far in the closet back then that there's no way that he was anything more than a fascination.”

“Well, there was also Bela?”

“Nope, I said no fuck buddies.”

“But it was very good fucking.”

“Half of me wishes I was there and the other half never wants to think about that again.”

“Okay, well there was uhh . . . Benny?”

“Wait, you guys really did it? Is that why you always get special treatment at the Cafe? Is he trying to hit that? Wait, did he hit that? Oh my god you're blushing! You guys so did it. Was it good? Clearly Benny thinks so. Are you still hooking up? Does he know about Cas?!”

“Well, I mean, it’s uhh . . . he uhh . . . I mean we . . . he was the only person I could trust for a while. It’s . . . it’s complicated between us. It’s not a sex thing. He’s a friend. A good friend. That I may or may not have had sexual relations with in the past,” Dean asserted trying to keep his face neutral.

“Exactly. “Sexual Relations.” You’re the playboy of the town, but you don’t exactly keep them around.”

“Gee, you’re a poet and you didn’t even know it.”

“Remind me why I keep _you_ around again.” Charlie joked.

“Because you love me.” Dean said with that smile that no one, not even Charlie, could resist.

“Yeah, I love you too, dork.”

“I know.” Dean said with a wink.

Charlie got up and flung herself at Dean. She hooked both hands around his neck and Dean picked her up and spun her around.

When he put her down, Charlie assumed what she like to call a power stance and said, "So when do we discuss rent with Gabe?"


	10. Chapter 10

Dean didn’t want to make a big deal of this, but Charlie wouldn’t have it any other way. No amount of foot-dragging or whining was going to get her to back down, especially not now that they were standing outside of Gabe and Cas’s front door.

“You gonna knock?” she asked holding up a fist to show that she was going to if he didn’t.

“Yeah, well . . .” Dean mumbled, covering Charlie’s hand with his and moving it to her side. Knocking wasn't going to help. Gabe couldn't hear it. And Dean knew this was a ridiculously specific assumption to make, but Cas didn’t seem like the kind of guy that answered a knock on the door. Dean could feel Charlie’s glare, so he pretended to be very interested in the floor. The welcome mat had a kink, so he attempted to smooth it over with his foot. His toe knocked into something under the mat. He toed the lump and lights flashed inside.

“Well what?” Charlie huffed impatiently as she searched for a bell or knocker or anything really.

“I already did.” Dean answered.

“Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The door opened.

"Your majesty," Dean said bowing low.

“Dean, I thought we agreed that I was your landlord and not involved with nobility,” Gabe teased.

"Actually," Dean said standing.

“Actually, Dean has already pledged his fealty to me,” Charlie interrupted, “And if I catch him switching teams, I’ll have his head,” she said with conviction and a smile that was absolutely terrifying.

“Hey you!” Gabe mumbled making Charlie’s name sign, but failing to voice it. "Good to see you again!"

“It’s Charlie,” she voiced.

Of course! How could I forget? Charlie!” Gabe said.

“We don’t need to voice. This jerk,” Charlie threw a thumb at Dean, “knows enough to follow along.”

“Naw, it’s cool,” Gabe assured Charlie, “I love the sound of my own voice. Well, I'm sure I would if only I could hear it. But I've been told I have a lovely tenor. Whaddya think?”

Charlie took a moment to respond. Anna hated speaking. She flat out refused to when she was with Charlie. And on a few occasions she even went so far as to stop Charlie from interpreting when they were in a restaurant trying to order. But Anna had Deaf friends, and not all of them were like that. Some used their voices more freely. But none like Gabe. This was a new philosophy that Charlie silently tucked away inside her brain. “It’s beautiful!” she answered honestly.

“Well, what are we doing out here? Where are my manners? Come in!” Gabe said leading the way into the kitchen. “Drinks?”

“No thanks,” Charlie replied. Dean declined with a wave.

Gabriel poured himself a glass of lemonade. Dean could smell the sugar from where he sat. He was pretty sure he could feel his teeth rotting just from being in the same room as the damned drink.

Gabe sat at the head of the kitchen table and motioned for Charlie and Dean to do the same.

“Dean tells me you have a few questions,” Gabe said with startling seriousness, “So, what do you want to know?”

“I made a list,” Charlie said rooting through her bag. “Okay,” she said pulling out a notebook. She folded the front cover back with a sophisticated flourish, glanced down at her list, made eye contact with Dean, and waited for his approval to start. Dean nodded. Charlie turned to Gabe. "Are we ready?" she asked.

Dean smiled at Charlie and put on what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Then he saw the contents of her notebook. There were a LOT of words on that page. He didn't realize what Charlie meant when she volunteered to ask Gabe a few questions, but this inquisition wasn't it.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Gabe answered.

Charlie quickly established what constituted as Dean's space, common space, or Gabe and Cas's personal space. She established rules for cleaning common and private areas.

“I’m a clean guy!” Dean interjected. “I’m not going to shit where I sleep.”

“Yeah, but it’s better to lay it all out on the table,” Charlie insisted. “Like what if you go through a midlife crisis and start leaving half-eaten boxes of donuts and regret in your room?”

“What the hell, Charlene?!” Dean shouted.

“It’s Charlie. And don’t forget to sign,” she tutted with an all too matronly glare as a declaration of the imperativeness of the situation.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized with all the petulance of an eight year old boy.

Charlie continued to glare.

Dean rolled his eyes at her and apologized again. “I’m sorry. I was being unreasonable and I forgot my manners. I won’t forget again.”

Gabe watched the conversation with the same morbid curiosity that one watches a trainwreck. It’s awful and you don’t want to see the potentially gruesome details, but you also don’t want to miss a thing.

“Well, any other questions?” Gabe asked.

“Anyway,” Dean continued, “What about Baby. I know the garage is common space, but would it be okay to park her inside? I can keep her on the street, but it would be awesome if she had a roof over her head.”

Charlie’s eyes went right back to the list. Dean just took the reigns of the conversation out of her hands. She scanned the page frantically while Dean stifled a laugh.

“As long as you don’t mind clearing out the space yourself. It’s a bit of a disaster inside right now. That’s why I keep my car in the driveway.”

“Awesome,” Dean said grinning almost literally from ear to ear.

Charlie found her place on her seemingly endless list. Next she confirmed that utilities were included in the rent. Then composed an extensive list of exactly what Dean was and was not allowed to modify. She also established rules for guests and other various useful tidbits such as garbage day.

She also had several questions that Dean felt were entirely unnecessary. For instance, Dean was allergic to cats. But thanks to Charlie, should Dean decide to bring one home, that would be fine by Gabe. Or despite the fact that Dean didn't smoke, Charlie found out the terms for smoking on the property. Apparently, he had Gabriel's permission to smoke the occasional social cigarette in the backyard.

At the end of Charlie’s questioning, Dean found out the most important piece of information. He could move in as soon as his current lease expired and he was free to start moving his things any as soon as he wanted. He could even stay in his new room rent free as soon as it was habitable. And after his freebie month, rent would be due the first of every month minus any deductions for labor.

When at last Charlie was satisfied Dean wasn't moving in with a slumlord, she volunteered to contact her lawyer to draft a proper lease. Dean was willing to move in on the honor system, but Charlie insisted and Gabe agreed that was a good idea.

She scribbled a few notes in her book, as Castiel walked in. He suspiciously eyed Dean and Charlie. Apparently Gabe didn't inform him about the company.

“Are you pumped about your new roomie?” Charlie beamed.

“Roomie?” Castiel repeated. The word sounded awkward in his mouth. Like he was trying to pronounce a foreign word.

“Your new roommate! Aren't you excited?” Charlie said, her temperament a bit more subdued.

“Why would I be excited?”

“Because you have a new roommate,” Charlie said frowning.

Castiel looked at Charlie, then Dean before turning to face Gabe. He furrowed his brow, then signed, “Charlie’s moving in?”

“No.” Gabe answered honestly, but avoiding the question his brother was really asking.

“So why is she talking about new roommates?”

“Because you will have a new roommate,” Gabe signed.

“Well, if it’s not Charlie? Who?” Cas said realizing the answer to his question as he finished asking it. “Dean?”

Gabe smiled sheepishly.

"Were you going to tell me? Or was I going to find out when there was a moving van out front? Why do you always do this?"

Cas glared at Gabe before turning back to Dean and signing more calmly. “When do you move in?”

“Next month.”

Cas nodded. “Do you need help transporting your belongings?”

“Naw, I’m good. I could probably fit everything important in the back of Baby. ”

“How about furniture?” Gabe asked.

“No worries there. My last apartment came fully furnished so I don't have any.” Dean said.

“What about a bed?” Gabe asked.

“I’ve got a sleeping bag. That should be fine for now.” Dean answered.

"A sleeping bag!" Charlie shouted at the same time Gabe said, “I can’t let you sleep in a bag." They turned toward each other and shared a moment of mother hen solidarity.

"The sofa downstairs converts to bed. How about you use that instead?” Gabe suggested.

“I’ll be fine.” Dean answered. Although, he wouldn’t mind sleeping on a bed. But he knew he should be grateful he had a place to stay at all.

“No you won’t. You can even take it upstairs. I’ve been meaning to get a new one anyway,” Gabe insisted.

It was clear Gabe made up his mind on the matter. “Yeah, sure. Thanks," Dean mumbled.

"I think we even have some spare sheets in the closet. I'll look for them later. And before you start, they don't fit any of the other beds so you're taking them."

“So it’s settled.” Charlie said, “Dean, welcome to your new home!”

Castiel and Gabe played nice as Dean and Charlie said their goodbyes. Charlie and Dean took their leave, leaving Gabe and Cas to work out their issues.

"What's Gabe's deal?" Dean asked after they rounded the first corner.

"Don't know. Don't want to know," Charlie answered. "He seems like a decent guy. That looked more like a brothers' squabble. And I know better than to get in the middle of one of those."

"What are you trying to say, Ms. Bradbury?" Dean said only half-jokingly.

"I think I'm trying to say that you and Sam have had your fair share of ridiculous arguments since I met you. And that in my expert and completely unbiased opinion, you have no right to judge."

"Is that so?" Dean asked. He placed his hand on the back of Charlie's chair so that he had a clear view as he backed out of Gabe’s driveway.

"It most certainly is," Charlie answered.

They spent the rest of the drive back to Dean’s listening to Mr. Hendrix do magical things with a guitar.

\--*-----

Stepping into Dean’s apartment, Charlie noticed for the first time how little he owned. She saw walls unadorned by photos or art. There were no little ornaments giving the place a personality or sense of home. Sure, Dean had a few knick-knacks and a handful of heirlooms from his dad's tour in Vietnam with the marines. But that was it. The apartment never felt so empty before today. And that’s when she realized it: the biggest centerpiece to Dean’s home was Dean. And Dean didn't belong here anymore. Physically, he was standing right there, but his heart was somewhere else. And suddenly the apartment felt empty.

Charlie felt a sudden strong urge to fill the space. “So how are you so broke when you’re working for Gabe?” she asked.

“Huh?” Dean asked.

“I mean, did you see that house?”

“Yeah, I fixed half of the things in there. Some of them were sorta pointless, but well . . . I dunno. I guess he does have to be in something lucrative to afford to call me over to install his air conditioner. But then again, he has window units and not central air.”

“Yeah, but he also is willing to just go buy a new couch.”

“He said he needed a new one.”

“Yeah, but there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the old one.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

“Well maybe you went after the wrong brother. This one's loaded. And as far as I can tell, Cas is living off his good will.”

Dean nodded. He hadn't given it much thought. How did they manage to land a place on the nice side of town. And why did Gabe never seem to be at work? Or Cas for that matter.

“So you just gonna stand there or do you need a hand packing your things?” Charlie said giving Dean a hearty clap on the back.

“I don’t need a hand,” Dean said with as much seriousness as he could muster, but a smile broke through. “I think I’ll need two.”


	11. Chapter 11

In the past, Dean just dealt with it, but this summer’s heat and humidity broke all sorts of records. And knowing there was an air conditioned room waiting for him lowered his tolerance for melting bowls of ice and ineffective fans. Not to mention the fact that the radio silence from Al was more than a little disconcerting. The idea that Al could walk in on him at any time wasn't helping stymie Dean’s deluge of sweat and anxiety.

And maybe Gabe had picked up on that anxiety even if he wouldn't admit it. Because rather than his usual early morning appointments, Dean found himself working nights. Late nights. Late enough that it would be foolish for Dean _not_ to sleep over. And Dean was grateful for the excuse, even if neither party would admit their true motives.

Dean offered to pay for the extra days he spent in the room, but Gabe wouldn't hear it. Literally. His hearing aid batteries always mysteriously died whenever Dean brought it up. Also he lost any semblance of speech-reading ability too. And while Dean made significant strides with his signing, it was always completely unintelligible whenever the subject of rent came up.

As the first rolled around, Gabe's new couch was delivered. Dean and Cas helped carry it in despite Dean's protests that there were delivery men that were actually paid to do this. And now that there was a new couch for the living room, the old one could finally be moved into Dean's room. Cas carefully backed up the stairs while Dean bore the brunt of the weight. Gabe was content to micromanage the ascent.

"Watch out for the rail! Work them calves, Cassie! Slow down, bro. That's an awfully big load, Dean-o!"

Cas seemed content to ignore his brother while Dean felt a strong desire to punch Gabe in the face. Too bad he had a sofa-bed his arms. Maybe he could convince Cas to heave the thing over the rail at Gabe. But instead they maneuvered it into Dean’s new room. Dean collapsed onto the cushionless couch, then Gabe came in tossing the missing cushions at him.

"Do I pay you to loaf around?" Gabe joked.

"Actually you don't pay me." Dean countered.

"Right you are. You pay me. But I guess we can keep you around. You're easy on the eyes. I'm sure Cassie would agree," Gabe said tossing a devilish grin to his brother.

Cas silently challenged Gabe with a glare. "You do look tired, Dean. Maybe you should wait to paint the room until tomorrow," Cas offered.

"Yeah, you do look wiped. Take a rest. It's your room now anyway. Do what you want," Gabe agreed.

"Just give me five minutes and I'll be good," Dean answered. He didn't like the implication that he wasn’t man enough to keep going. And Cas wasn't even breathing hard. Sure he was glistening a little, but he didn't seem as tired as Dean. But then again, Cas was on top. Dean was the one doing most of the work from the bottom.

Dean hauled himself off the couch and walked to the window. He unplugged the AC, the same one from his second job with Gabe, and took it out of the window. It may not have been strong enough to properly cool the big open living room, but it was more than enough for Dean’s bedroom. Then he threw a tarp over his new bed and shooed Cas and Gabe out of the room. He'd paint this room if it killed him.

Dean pried opened the lid of the chervil leaf green paint and dumped it into the roller tray and got to work. He was a sweaty mess by the time he finished the first coat. No air conditioning combined with paint fumes made him lightheaded. He decided a hot shower followed by a quick nap would be exactly what he needed. He grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom.

Dean scrubbed the paint off his skin and washed the smell from his nose. As soon as he opened the door to the hallway he was assaulted by the paint fumes. Gabe whistled as he walked by Dean who was wearing nothing but a towel tied around his hips. "You probably shouldn't sleep in that room tonight," Gabe warned, "You can sleep on the new sofabed. That is unless you’re into sharing," he added with a sinful wink.

"I'll be fine," Dean assured, "I don't want to foul up your new furniture."

"No worries at all. It's there to be slept on."

"I'll manage," Dean grunted.

"My house, my rules," Gabe said whimsically, although Dean didn't feel any whimsy.

"If you need privacy, you can sleep in my room," Castiel offered stepping out of his room into the hallway.

"Naw, Cas. I don't wanna kick you out of your room. I can take the couch for a night."

“Oh Cassie, making moves already? Dean’s barely moved in,” Gabe said, smirking.

“Yeah, uh, Cas. You’re cool and all, but I don’t think we’ve reached beds sharing status just yet.” Dean agreed.

“We wouldn't be sharing. I’m going out with Meg tonight and I won’t be back.”

Dean would be lying to himself if he wasn’t a little heartbroken to hear that. Part of him was sorta looking forward to “having to share a bed" even if he was playing the part of the reluctant guest. If standing outside by Baby made Cas want to kiss Dean, then perhaps lying in bed together . . .

“As long as you’re sure you don’t mind, Cas”

“If I minded, I wouldn’t have offered.” Castiel replied.

And that was that. Dean would sleep in Castiel’s bed tonight.

\--*-----

Provided Dean wasn't dreaming, he was a light sleeper. So sleeping in someone else's bed had him on a hair trigger. And he definitely heard someone drop their keys on the floor and curse as they came into the house. Cas? Dean tried to call out, but the sleep still had a hold of his voice. What time was it? He looked for a clock, but didn’t see the familiar red glow. He grabbed his phone.

_2:15AM_

Cas had a late night, certainly more than Dean was ready to give him credit for, but it also wasn't morning yet. Damn Cas. Looked like someone would be breaking in the new couch after all. Dean listened to the sound of socked feet shuffle around the living room. Then he heard the thud of what was could only be Castiel's drunk ass landing on the new couch. Dean would know. He considered himself an expert on the sound Cas's ass made after the jogging fiasco. Dean waited, but heard no more sounds from the living room. Cas was asleep. And for some strange reason, this thought lulled Dean back to sleep.

\--*-----

Dean felt the warmth of the sun on his face. He opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. The sunlight was too bright. He didn't have anywhere to be until much later. And he didn’t mind the comfort of being the little spoon for once.

What? Dean let the room come into focus. He slowly remembered that he was in Gabe’s, no, _his_ house and that he spent the night in Cas’s bed. Cas was passed out downstairs despite claims to staying out all night with Meg. But someone definitely had their arms and legs wrapped around Dean. Someone warm and strong. Someone nearly naked and rocking a killer morning hard on.

Dean tried to slip away, but Cas had one hell of a kung-fu grip. He tried to break his hold unsuccessfully. He wouldn't be able to do it without waking him. Then Dean tried to maneuver himself down through Cas’s arms. This accomplished nothing except offer encouragement for Castiel's arousal. Dean was conflicted. He wanted both to grind back on it and as well as get as far away as possible from this situation. If a kiss warranted that awkward conversation in the Cafe, Dean didn’t want to know what the apology for a morning quickie would entail.

Cas sighed and pulled Dean closer. Dean willed himself to think unpleasant thoughts. Like Baby getting totaled. If he’d ever needed an instant boner killer, that would definitely be it. Thinking of Baby smashed beyond repair, Dean remembered the jerk who cut him off on the freeway the other day. And she had the nerve to shout a colorful string of obscenities at him as she did it. What a bitch!

Speaking of bitches, Cas went out with Meg last night. Was it a date? According to Balthazar, they were sorta a thing at some point. But according to Charlie they definitely weren’t. And Cas was likely trashed last night. Dean was sure he could still smell alcohol on his breath. Dean couldn't imagine Cas getting intimate with someone. Well, he _could_. Dean had more than a few fantasies about it. But it didn't quite seem to fit his character. Meg would totally own Cas. She seemed the domineering type. Then again, the way Cas quieted Meg in the Cafe with just a look. That was hot. And if it were any indication as to what Cas would be like in bed, well, Dean couldn't argue with that.

Dean thought about Cas being rough with Meg. In great amounts of detail. The kinds of details which soon had Dean thinking with his downstairs brain. The brain that had him grinding back against Castiel erection.

And Dean became aware he wasn’t the only one enjoying himself. Castiel’s hands found their way under Dean's shirt. They wandered the expanse of his upper body. Dean tried to encourage Cas to keep exploring through breathless gasps and soft moans.

At long last, Cas rested one hand over the waistband of Dean's boxers. He pressed his palm against Dean's stomach. He curled his fingers through the hair that led to where Dean hoped Cas would soon focus more of his attention.

"Goddammit Cas!" Dean ground out. He turned over and thrust his hips proving that he was aroused and wanted more. Dean leaned in for a gentle kiss and was not met with the clumsiness of their first. He rubbed his arousal against Cas’s and was only interrupted by Cas who was already tugging at Dean's boxers. Dean pulled off his own shirt before attempting to finish undressing Cas.

Cas closed a fist over Dean's needy erection. Dean forgot what he was made about and moaned. He used both hands to grab Cas by his scruffy hair and pulled him in for another kiss, morning breath be damned, while he bucked into Castiel's hand.

Dean’s hands ventured lower. He slid them down Cas’s back and were just about to slide over the curve of his ass when he felt Cas's other hand reaching back for . . . oh this definitely wasn't his first time with another man.

“Shit, Cas. Meg would be so jealous if she knew you ditched her for this.”

Cas stopped and pulled away and Dean immediately regretted his words.

“Hey, dude.” Dean signed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Cas said nothing.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Cas.”

Castiel nodded and then turned his back to Dean. Dean wasn’t sure what to do. He lay on the bed for what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than a minute. He tried to get up without disturbing the bed. Which of course meant that every movement and sound was amplified by a million. The springs creaked, the floor creaked, Dean’s joints creaked, and Dean’s thoughts creaked. Cas didn’t seem to take any mind though.

We're still good, right? That was what Dean wished he said as he pulled on his pants, closed the door and made the walk of shame down to Gabe’s new couch. The sun was still making it's way over the horizon. And Dean didn't know what to do. He couldn't go back to sleep. And he left his phone in Cas's room. He wasn't ready to go back in, so it would have to stay there for now. He didn’t know that many phone numbers off the top of his head. But if he used the house phone, he could call Charlie and ask her advice. He picked up the receiver and punched in the first few digits of her number. He hesitated. What would he say? Hey Charlie, I’m sorry that I’m calling you at ass early o’clock, but well, I sorta hooked up with Cas. Yes . . . well, I know you don’t want the details. But we didn’t uhh . . . finish if you know what I’m saying. And now it’s awkward and I need moral support.

No.

That was a terrible idea. He couldn’t call Charlie. But he had to talk it over with someone. No, he could handle this himself. No, he couldn’t.

Dean mashed the red phone symbol.

What was he supposed to do?

Okay, maybe Charlie was just the wrong person. So someone else. Sam? Oh wow . . . it’s been ages since he’s heard his voice. They kept in touch via text, but that was it. He wondered if he even remembered his old phone number. Dean dialed, but when the heard the call go through he panicked and hung up. Crap. Hopefully, Sam wouldn’t call back.

He wracked his brain for any other numbers. And the only other one he could think of was his dad’s. He thought about calling him for almost three seconds before realizing what a shit show that would be.

He didn’t need Charlie. He didn’t need Sammy. And he most certainly didn’t need his dad. He could make it though this himself. He just needed some fresh air to clear his head.


	12. Chapter 12

It was a bit humid, but Dean stepped outside and reveled in the morning air. He figured he'd just take a quick walk, so he struck out with no particular destination in mind. The morning breeze was a not-so-subtle reminder that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

After a few minutes he was able to relax. There was something calming about being awake when most of the world was still asleep. Dean thought about his life. He remembered the shit times and rationalized that this didn't even come close.

As he walked, he heard footsteps behind him. He shook away the thought. Although he didn’t stop straining to listen for a second set of footfalls. There was almost definitely somewhere there. Dean didn't look, he just quickened his pace. Soon Dean broke into a run and so did the person behind him, but after a block or two his stalker turned and the footsteps faded.

Dean realized that this was part of his problem. He made such a big deal of everything. There was no such thing as coincidence in his book. There couldn't be someone else out early in the morning. It had to be someone stalking him with malicious intent. Paranoid. Maybe he got that from his father. Of all the traits to inherit . . .

Dean forced himself to stop that train of thought. He wasn't going to let himself spiral downward. He reflected on how he got here: literally running away from his problems, half-naked, through the good side of town.

Dean hadn't come to a conclusion when he found himself standing in front of a door with a sticker that read:

No shirt.  
No shoes.  
No service.

Well, he had shoes. And he didn't need service. A glass of water would be nice, but he'd live without it. The shirt part however . . . He peeked inside and saw that the cafe was still empty and that it was Benny manning the counter. He hoped his friend wouldn't mind.

Benny raised his eyebrow at Dean's attire, or lack thereof, but said nothing. Dean, without the morning breeze to cool him, felt a flush rushing onto his chest and face.

“So what can I do you for today?” Benny asked.

“Water,” Dean signed. He didn't realize he didn't speak. He was more worried about trying not to turn bright red from the exertion or embarrassment.

“You look parched. How 'bout some ice water?” Benny suggested.

Dean nodded. Benny grabbed a glass and filled it with ice water. He also crushed a few green leaves and added a couple slices of lemon before handing the glass to Dean. Dean downed the whole thing and placed it back on the counter.

“Need a refill, brother? On the house,” he said with a wink.

“Water's always been free,” Dean said, “And I’ll also have one of those tea things.”

“Sure thing.”

“Can you make it cold?”

Benny took a moment to think about the request. “I might could give it a shot," he answered. He refilled Dean's glass with water. "Now why don't you take this and have a seat. You look bushed."

Dean’s sat in his usual spot. He thought about the first time he met Benny.

It wasn't a good time. Dean was late. He owed Al money, but he had spent it on Sam's college applications. Those were expensive. And there was a pair of goons tailing him down a not-so-great part of town. The part where Dean went to hustle money from the local bumpkins. Dean hoped if he ignored them, they would disappear. He was wrong. And that's when Benny came in. Apparently he didn't much like the idea of two against one and joined the fray.

The pair took down the other guys, then adrenaline still pumping from the fight, Dean walked over to Benny who was bent over, hands on his knees and breathing hard. He slapped him on the back like they were old friends. “Thanks.”

Benny didn’t answer. He just smiled.

Dean began to walk away--he was grateful, but he figured he should get out before he found out he owed this man, who was definitely a skilled fighter, a favor. But the unasked question pulled him back. “I don’t mean to press my luck, but why did you help me out back there?”

"You got something I need."

That's what he said. And it was true. It wasn't the cash or the anything. What Benny was looking for was companionship. Someone who had been down the same road. And maybe, Dean admitted, he needed that too.

He was so engrossed in his memory that he didn't notice Benny came and left the iced tea on the table. Dean inhaled sharply and held it. He didn’t have any cash. Dean knew that Benny knew he was good for it, but it didn’t make him feel less guilty. He took a sip. It was a little sweeter than he expected, but it was still great. He’d have to remember to compliment Benny before he left.

And that's when he noticed that it wasn't just the iced tea that arrived unnoticed.

“Hey Cas.” Dean signed.

"Hello, Dean.”

Dean could feel Cas's stare. He felt naked under it. He _was_ nearly naked, but that wasn’t the point. It felt like Cas was trying to read his mind. Good thing there weren't any X-Men in real life. Because if Cas knew what was happening in Dean's brain, he wouldn't still be sitting there.

Maybe that it was it though. Maybe Cas came because he heard the rumors about Dean Winchester. Great night in the sack, gone by morning. But it wasn't like Dean got off on one night stands. He was well-aware that sex was better without the first time fumbles. But everyone was always so needy. Not that Dean didn't like to provide. It’s just that . . . he didn't know how to explain it. At least not in a way that anyone's ever understood. He wasn’t even sure if he understood it himself. He just wasn’t the sort of guy that liked to be tied down. And he had that with Lisa. But he got scared. Fucked that one up, too. Couldn’t go back now even if he wanted to.

“I can leave if you want. You were gone this morning and I saw you walking, but you didn’t notice me.” Of course that’s what happened. He knew he was being paranoid. “I brought you a shirt.” Cas said, producing a shirt from his shorts pocket.

Dean was surprised not only the gesture, or that Cas somehow managed to shove a t-shirt into his shorts pocket, or the fact that Cas knew Dean was heading to the Cafe, or even the fact that he caught up with Dean nearly three-quarters of the way to the Cafe, ran back home, and still managed to get here not long after Dean. The thing that really got him, was the fact that Cas did all those things and was sitting here drinking coffee. How was he even alive? Shouldn't he be drinking water? Didn't he _need_ water?

Dean laughed and Cas thrust the shirt at him, standing to leave.

“Wait,” Dean said louder than he meant, cringing at the volume. “Stay.” Dean signed.

Cas sat. Dean didn't know what to do next. He hadn't planned that far ahead. Where to start? Dean wondered. The beginning was a good place. But Cas didn't need to know his life story. Maybe in time, but not now. Just an apology. Start with an apology.

“Sorry,” Cas said before Dean did.

“Sorry? What are _you_ sorry for?” Dean asked.

“I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable this morning.”

Dean called it. There would be no end to the awkward apologies. He chuckled at the idea.

“I fail to see the humor in that statement. I was offering a sincere apology for my be--”

“It’s not that, Cas.” Dean interrupted, “It’s just that I was trying to figure out how to apologize for the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“This morning,” he said, gaining confidence, “I left because I was afraid I hurt you. I thought that I crossed a line I wasn’t supposed to cross and I didn’t know what to do. So I left to try to clear my head.”

Castiel looked perplexed.

“I mean, I shouldn’t’ve said that. I just . . . Balthazar and Meg don’t hold back when they talk to you and I assumed . . .” Dean said realizing how lame that sounded, “And you know what they say about people who assume."

“No, I don’t know, Dean.”

“It makes an ass out of you and me," Dean answered rolling his eyes.

Cas cocked his head and looked generally perplexed.

"It’s because you spell the word ‘assume’ with the word ‘ass’ and then the letter ‘u’ and ‘me’-- But that's not the point! Cas, I'm sorry. I just want us to be okay. And I know I can’t change what happened, but like, maybe start again?”

Cas didn't answer, so Dean took the lead. "Hi, my name is Dean,” he signed, using the sign name Castiel gave to him.

Cas took a moment to register what was happening, “My name’s Castiel. That's a beautiful sign name. What does it mean?"

"Uhh, it's my name," Dean answered lamely.

"But what does it mean? All sign names should say something about the person," Cas explained.

"Oh, I didn't know. A friend of mine gave me the name, but he never said what it meant. I figured it was just my initials."

"Well, I don't know this friend," Cas said pausing to throw Dean a cheesy wink. "But I would say the sign starts like a flower bud closed to the world, but then it turns the sun and opens its heart to the world.”

Dean was speechless.

“The person who gave you that sign name must think very highly of you." Cas continued.

"Cas . . . I didn’t know. We barely knew each other then. Thanks." Dean said staring at his hand as he signed his name over and over.

“I thought we were playing strangers."

"We were."

Cas picked up on the past test. "Are you ready for the walk home?"

“Fuck no,” Dean replied, "I've got about thirty blisters on my left foot alone. I'm not walking anywhere."

“Well, how are we going to get back?” Cas asked.

"I don't know. You can head home. I can always try to bum a ride."

“Gabriel can come pick us up," Cas suggested, "He doesn’t have work today.”

“As I said before: Fuck. No.” Dean said clearly punctuating each word. “Wait a minute, Gabe works? What does he do? Because as far as I can tell, he just sits around all day coming up with strange crap for me to do.”

“He’s a process server.”

“A what now?”

“A process server.” Castiel repeated, enunciating each word.

“I got that the first time Cas. What does it mean?”

“He delivers documents. They're usually for people involved in a some form of litigation.”

“Hah. You’ve been served," Dean said slapping the table for emphasis. "That actually make a whole lot of sense believe it or not.”

“It’s a common misconception that process servers are required to recite that line.”

“Don’t spoil it for me, Cas. I can see it now. Gabe dressed up like a pizza man delivering divorce papers to some cheating husband.”

“It’s also a common misconception that process servers wear costumes or disguises.”

“Let me have this.” Dean said holding up a finger to silence Cas. “Just let me have this.”

“I don’t understand why you want to continue to delude yourself. But that aside, we still need to get back home.”

“Right, uh . . .”

“What about Charlie?”

“She doesn’t drive.”

“If you don't want to walk and you don't want to call Gabriel. There's no other choice unless you can fly.” Cas said, exasperated.

“I don’t mean to stick my nose where it don’t belong, but I get off work in an hour if you don’t mind waiting around.” Benny volunteered from behind the counter.

\--*-----

At the end of Benny's shift, they followed him out to the lot. Benny drove an ancient pick-up truck. The kind that didn't have a back seat.

“I don’t think we can safely ride in this vehicle.” Cas said.

“Thanks for the offer, Benny, but I'm going to have to agree with Cas on this one.”

"Don’t worry,” Benny said hopping into the cab.

There wasn't much room in the front seat, but it was clear the only thing there wasn't room for was argument. Dean and Cas followed Benny into the cab.

Dean left a small, but noticeable space between his thigh and Cas’s. Which meant he was sitting a little too close to Benny. It would have been nice to lean into him and have him say that everything would work out for the best. But Dean could solve his own problems now. He didn't need to depend on others. Although, it was nice to know Benny was by his side if he fell.

Benny hummed a few songs Dean couldn’t place until he pulled up in front of their house. “That’s the end of the line, boys. Everyone out.”

“Thanks, Benny. Don’t know what I would do without you.” Dean said clapping a hand over his shoulder.

“Just because I keep your skinny ass alive, doesn’t mean I don’t owe you a favor or two as well. Stay safe.” he said reaching over and pulling Dean into a bear hug.

Castiel eyed Dean suspiciously as he walked up to the front door.

“How do you know Benny?” he asked.

“He’s a friend from another life.”

“Another life? Like reincarnation?” Cas asked.

Dean tried to decide if Cas was joking or serious. “It’s hard to explain. Benny was someone who was there for me when I needed to get my life together. And thanks in part to him, I have . . . mostly. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him.”

“I see.” Cas said, eyes trained on Dean’s face, trying to read between the lines.

Dean groped his pockets for his keys. But they weren't there. Dean knew exactly where they were. On Cas's nightstand next to his cell phone.

“Cas, I forgot my key.”

“Was he your lover?” Cas asked.

“What?!”

“Was Benny your lover?” he repeated.

“First off Cas, that's none of your damn business. Second, this isn’t the time or the place to discuss my love life. Third--" Dean cut off his own tirade. Cas looked hurt. He continued with a must softer voice, “Third, I don’t know how to answer that.”

“But you have to know.” Cas insisted. “Were you and Benny . . . intimate?”

“Cas, just open the damn door.” Dean said, the warning rising in his voice. “I won’t pry into your life and your relationships, or lack thereof with Meg or anyone else if you just leave it.”

Cas opened his mouth to say something, when the door opened. Gabe walked out with a paint can and brush in one hand and a half eaten candy bar in the other.

“Dean! You're just the man I need!” Gabe greeted. “So I was thinking that it was time we painted the garage.”

“And by ‘we’ you mean ‘me,’ right?”

"Oh, hey Cas!" Gabe said, his surprise evident. “Actually, now that I think about it I thought I'd give it a shot on my own. Give you two love birds some alone time. I'll call if I need anything."

“We’re not . . .” Dean and Cas said in unison.

“Practically married,” Gabe said under his breath before taking a bite of his candy bar.

Cas walked inside without another word and Dean followed close behind. They settled on opposite ends of the couch.

“Cas, " Dean said continuing their conversation before Gabe. "Benny and me. What we had, what we still have, it’s complicated. Benny's one of my best friends. I would trust him with my life. I did. And we were never. He wasn’t my boyfriend. At least I don’t think he would call it that.”

Dean watched Cas digest his words. He hoped he didn't screw this up more than he already had. He liked Cas. He was a friend. A weird friend, but a friend nonetheless.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Cas, I don’t know how else to expl--”

“But I don’t think I need to understand. I _understand_.” Cas said signing ‘understand’ two different ways.

The first Dean knew, it always reminded him of the proverbial lightbulb going off. but he had never seen the second sign before. He wasn’t sure he was interpreting it correctly, but he felt that he really . . . _understood_ what Cas was trying to say.

“He is important to you much in the same way that you are important to me.” Cas said.

"Thanks for understanding,” Dean signed. “And if I ever figure it out, you'll be the first to know.”

Dean and Cas sat in contented silence. Then they both jumped at the sound of shattering glass.

“What the hell was that?!” Dean asked.

“I think you better go help Gabe.” Cas said urgently, “The last time Gabe painted something he was trying to build a _Ninja Warrior_ set in our backyard. And I'm not sure how it happened, but he ended up in the hospital with a dislocated shoulder and covered in mud.”

“Well, Gabe said he was going to paint the garage, so I don’t think we need to worry about mud pits in the yard today.” Dean said as more glass shattered.

Outside, Dean saw nothing amiss. He looked over at the garage doors and at Gabe. Both seemed to still be intact. Gabe stood next to a ladder while a few neighbors peeked through blinds at the hubbub.

“Hey! What’s up?” Dean shouted.

Gabe didn’t answer. Right. Deaf.

Dean jogged over signing, “What’s wrong?” over and over until Gabe saw him.

“Nothing. The ladder isn't sitting right and I feel like everyone's watching me. It's giving me a serious case of the wiggins.”

Dean adjusted the ladder and he heard the familiar crunch of broken glass.

“Gabe,” Dean started, “Your garage doors are glass.”

Gabe knocked on the door. "Dean, you’re the expert, but this looks like wood."

“On the outside, but there's glass between the plywood. So there’s good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Hit me with the bad stuff.”

“Bad news? You're going to need to replace these doors,” Dean said casting a worried glance at the things. “Good news? You won't have to paint them."

"Great," Gabe said sarcastically.

"For now though, I wouldn’t use the doors more than you need to. If there’s anything you want to grab from inside, do it now until you can replace them.”

Dean carefully lifted the door. He cringed at the familiar tinkle of glass shards sliding past each other. Gabe went in and emerged carrying a large bag of sweets, a bag of charcoal, and a small grill.

“Looks like you’ve got your priorities straight. Anything else you need?”

“That should be it.”

Dean slowly lowered the door, and another cascade of falling glass sounded.

“That doesn’t sound safe. You definitely shouldn't open this again," Dean warned.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Gabe said grinning, “Anyone who can get Cassie to cut short a night with Meg has my attention.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“I mean, she’s one of his only friends in the world.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at that. “Cas is a bit of a dork, but I’m sure he has other friends. What about Balthazar?”

“Family don't count.”

“But I thought . . .”

“Family are the people who support you and take care of you and slap you upside the head when you’re being an ass. Balthazar’s family.”

“Yeah, I get that. And if you’re being literal about the slapping, that makes Charlie the closest family I got. She’s the little sister I never wanted. Although, my brother Sam sent me a goddamned _selfie_ the other day and his hair is longer than Charlie's. Must be jealous of all the time I spend with her. Thinks that if he grows out his hair I’d be more likely to visit.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Well, let’s get inside. Don’t want Cassie to worry about us.”

“If he were worried, he’d come out and check on us, right?”

“Well, he takes after me in that regard. He’d rather check out then check up if he’s concerned.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just go.” Gabe urged.

\--*-----

Gabe and Dean went inside, but Cas wasn’t where Dean left him.

“$50 off your rent says he’s in his room.” Gabe said with a smug grin.

"I don't think so." Dean said, walking toward Cas's room. Dean knew he wouldn’t want to be in there after this morning. He opened the door, but there was no one inside.

“Not here!” Dean called down the stairs to Gabe.

“What?” Gabe signed.

“Sorry,” Dean signed. “He’s not here.”

“Really?” Gabe asked genuinely perplexed.

“Who’s not here?” Cas asked.

Dean turned and saw Cas emerge from Dean’s room.

“What the hell . . .” Dean asked. Then he turned back to Gabe and signed, “Found him. He was in my room.”

“Good luck, tiger.” Gabe signed before disappearing to another part of the house.

“What the hell, Cas? Why were you in my room?”

“Oh, I was jus--”

“You were just what? Snooping through my stuff?” Dean snapped, pushing past Cas into his room. He quickly checked to be sure that everything was in order.

“I just needed some space to think.”

“That’s what we have rooms for. Rooms with doors. Assigned rooms. This is Dean’s room. That’s Gabe’s room. And over there. That door? That’s Cas’s room.”

“I’m aware,” Cas said walking over toward Dean and his room, “But when I was little I always used to come here.”

“When you were little? You mean you grew up here?”

“I thought you knew. This is a family home and this,” Cas said gesturing to the space around him, “used to be Gabe’s room.”

“So where are your parents? In a gated community down in Florida?”

“Who can say?”

“Oh shit. Sorry Cas. I didn’t mean . . . when did they pass? Was it recent?”

“What? No. They’re still alive.”

“But you said . . .”

“People don’t just disappear Dean.”

Dean nodded, but that was out of politeness. People did disappear. His dad disappeared. He dragged Sammy and Dean all over the country trying to find some guy we whose name he didn’t even know. Until one day he left and never came back.

“When did he leave?”

“About a year after Mom did.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“C’mon Cas. Don’t say that. You were a kid, right? What could you have done?”

“My brothers. They're all deaf. But they did well enough. Not well enough for Mom though. She just lost interest. At least until Gabe started talking. She came back to life. And then there was me. Mom had a hearing test done on me when I was born. She was excited that I could hear, but when I didn’t talk . . .” Cas paused and Dean slung a comforting arm around his shoulders.

“Hey. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t understand what that must’ve been like, but I think I _understand_. If you get what I’m saying.” Dean said signing the word he learned from Cas this morning.

Cas didn’t say anything, but the embrace he gave Dean was the only answer he needed.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean woke with Cas still in his arms. They must have fallen asleep. It made sense seeing as how neither of them slept much the night before. Dean tried to pull his arm back, but Castiel proved that his sleeping death grip was a rule and not an exception.

Dean looked for Castiel's clock. 2:47 PM. He had work later and knew he should wake Cas. Dean grabbed Cas's shoulder with his free hand and shook him gently..

Nothing.

“It’s gonna take more than that.” Gabe said from the doorway.

“The hell . . .” Dean whispered. “What the hell, Gabe. How long have you been there?’

“Long enough to know that you have nothing to worry about yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked.

“It means that if you’re going to date my little bro--”

“Who said I’m dating him?” Dean countered, not out of denial, but curiosity.

“Oh no, I fall asleep platonically cuddling my friends too.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean answered.

“Anyway, like I was saying. If you’re going to do--whatever this," Gabe said waving both hands in Dean and Cas's direction, "is with my little brother, you better treat him right. Or else.”

“Or else what?” Dean asked, exasperated.

“Or else I’ll kick you to the curb. Literally. With nothing but the shirt on your back.”

Dean laughed at the idea of Gabe kicking Dean anywhere at all.

“Listen up you little shit. You have no idea what I can and cannot do. But I want you to know that you do _not_ want to find out."

Dean balked. Gabe did have a pretty commanding presence at that moment and Dean was more than ready to take what he was saying at face value.

"Little Cassie here had it rough. Auntie dearest showed her kindness to us in the strangest of ways. And she was kindest to Cas if you catch my drift," Gabe faltered. Tears threatened to fall, but he held them back. "So when I was old enough, I took Cas and we got the hell outta dodge."

Dean saw how important this was to Gabe.

"But maybe I still had some growing up to do. I met this girl. She was perfect. Convinced me to run off with her. And I did. Left Cassie fifty bucks and a phone number. He never called. And turns out she wasn't that perfect."

“I can relate. I took care of Sammy growing up and-- Shit, Gabe. I'm sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity," Gabe answered, looking away. "What I _need_ is for you to know that if you fuck this up. Whatever _this_ may be. If you take my brother’s trust, the little that he has left, and then throw it away. Know that I will ruin you.”

Dean swallowed. He knew this was not an empty threat. He would do the same thing for Sam. In fact, he'd done worse. Dean nodded.

“Right.” Gabe said, smiling as if he didn't just dredge up painful memories and threaten Dean's life. “The only way to wake up sleeping beauty over there is with love’s true kiss.”

“What?!”

“Sorry. Confused reality with fiction again. What I meant to say, is that you’ll have to give him some coffee. Seeing as how you're incapacitated at the moment, I'll help you out this time by brewing a fresh batch.”

Gabe left and Dean waited. He looked down at Cas. A little TLC helped wake him up that morning. Maybe Gabe wasn't completely full of shit about that kiss. Then again, it was Gabe. Dean leaned in for a quick peck before thinking better of it. Instead, he sat up and waited.

A few minutes later, the scent of coffee wafted into the room. It was followed by Gabe carrying two mugs. He handed one to Dean and held the other by Castiel’s face. And through some weird sort of programmed instinct, Cas began to stir. Dean was impressed.

“Rise and shine, little bro.” Gabe coaxed.

“Mmmm.” Cas hummed as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He sat up, finally releasing Dean’s other arm.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said, his voice still scratchy with sleep.

Gabe handed one mug to Dean and the other to Cas who spent a moment with his face over the mug inhaling the fresh coffee like he needed it to breathe.

“What did you break?” Cas said after taking his first sip.

“Break? Why ever would you think I broke something?” Gabe asked with mock offense before leaving.

Dean and Cas sat like two strangers sharing a couch in a doctor’s waiting room and sipping their coffee.

The quiet gave Dean a chance to ruminate on his situation. Cas was about five hundred shades of awkward. What was this? What did Cas want this to be? What did Dean want it to be? He wasn't sure. The only thing he did know is that he wanted them to be okay.

Dean and Cas tried to speak at the same time.

“No, you first.” Dean insisted.

“Thanks for sticking around.” Cas mumbled.

“No problema, Cas.” Dean said reaching over to try to tame Cas’s bed head. “Although, it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“You fell asleep on my arm. And and apparently you've been eating your Wheaties because I could get away.”

“Oh,” Cas said, crestfallen.

“Hey man, lighten up. I was just teasing. I would’ve stayed even if you didn’t have me pinned.” Dean added, “Although, I wouldn’t mind having you pin me if you get what I mean.” He said still trying to wrangle Cas's hair.

“Dean, about that. I think we should ta--”

“OH MY GOODNESS!”

“What?” Cas said trying to pull away, but Dean’s fingers were curled tightly in his hair.

Dean stood up, still holding Cas’s hair in his hands, and bent over to examine it more closely.

“Dean, what are you-- what do you think you're doing? Get off!”

“Cas! You’re hair's grey! Like all of it. Every single hair is grey! Do you? Oh my god. Do you dye your hair? You must! How long have you been an old man? How old are you anyway?” Dean asked. He put one knee on each side of Cas’s hips to hold him still so Dean could continue investigating Cas's scalp.

“Dean, please get off of me.”

Just then they heard the door open. Gabe held a coffeepot and was visibly trying to scrub this memory from his mind. He shut the door and shouted, “You know, _usually_ when a couple ‘gets a room’ they have the decency to LOCK THE GODDAMN DOOR!”

Dean broke into laughter. The deep belly kind of laugh. He rested his forehead against Cas’s and let his hands slide down to rest on the back of the couch.

“Should we?” Dean said catching his breath, “Should be tell him?”

“No.” Cas replied, "Let him think what he wants. He deserves whatever small trauma he feels."

“So you do have a sense of fun and adventure deep down in there, Cas. But do you really want your brother to think that we’re . . . you know . . .?” Dean asked signing a word that definitely wasn't the word 'meet.'

“We can explain later. But for now, let’s enjoy the privacy for however long Gabriel thinks it takes for us to do whatever it is he thinks we were doing.”

“What _are_ we doing, Cas?” Dean asked returning to his place on the couch next to Cas.

“Talking, I suppose.”

“No. None of that literal bullshit right now. Seriously. What is this? Gabe more or less threatened to murder me if I so much as thought about hurting your feelings. And for a little guy, he’s surprisingly terrifying.” Dean said with an edge of fierceness in his voice. “So what are we doing? On a broader scale.”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dean. We’re living. Getting to know each other.”

“I mean, are we just roommates? Are we friends? Are we-- Are we something else? I don’t know. And really? No reaction about Gabe threatening to kill me?”

“Dean,” Cas started, “Gabe wouldn’t kill you. You’re his friend and his roommate. Besides, I enjoy your company too much to let Gabe murder you.”

“Well, there’s certainly a plus.”

“Besides, Charlie gave me the same speech. I trust you wouldn't let her murder me.”

“I assure you, you do _not_ want to piss her off.” Dean replied, “I still have scars. Literal scars. It takes a lot of get under her skin, but if you do, I’d head for the hills.”

Castiel looked at Dean for any sign of teasing. “You’re serious?”

“This is my serious face, Cas. I’m not lying.” Dean warned. “You piss her off and I doubt even the devil's mother could call her off.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Wait-- You spoke to Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“About _us_?” Dean asked gesturing between the two of them.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Yesterday before I came home.”

“Cas, look at me. This is very important, so think hard. What exactly did you say to her?” Dean said remembering that he hadn't checked his phone all morning. He grabbed his phone from where it was charging and powered it on.”

“I may have had a few too many drinks last night and I wasn’t in full control of my faculties. I called Charlie for . . . advice.

“What did Meg have to say about this?” Dean asked as he waited impatiently for his phone to turn back on.

“She was impressed I still has the physical dexterity necessary to use a phone.”

“Okay, but what about . . .” Dean said as he watched his inbox load. “Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“I have to go see Charlie. Like right now.” Dean said shoving his phone in his pocket and placing a reassuring hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Cas, I’ll be back. I promise.” He said as he grabbing his keys.

Cas just at on the couch, hands folded in his lap. Dean hesitated.

“Screw it. Cas, you’re coming with me.”

Dean and Cas were almost out the door when a voice that didn't belong to Gabe said, “So _that’s_ why Cas was so desperate to get home last night.”

“Charlene Celeste Bradberry.” Dean said invoking his inner dad voice.

“Dean, I-really-wish-you-had-a-middle-name, Winchester! Don’t you sass me. Do you know how many times I called you?” she said marching purposefully toward him.

“I told you she was serious.” Dean whispered to Cas.

“I heard that young man. Now you have some explaining to do. Why haven’t you returned ANY of my calls?”

“I didn’t have my ph--”

“No excuses. Start at the beginning and don't leave anything out. I'll know.”

Dean nodded. “Well, I finally moved the couch to my room and I painted. But Gabe wouldn’t let me sleep in my own room because of paint fumes or something,” Dean said waiting for Gabe to confirm his story. He nodded solemnly, then Dean continued, “So Cas said he was going to be out all night with Meg and offered to let me sl--”

“Hold up there. And what were _you_ doing with that harlot?”

“She is not a harlot.” Cas shot back, stunning Charlie into silence.

“Whoa Cas, I should bring you to all my interrogations. I’ve never seen Charlie back down in the middle of a tirade.”

“I . . .” Charlie started before she realized that everyone was staring. “I have nothing more to say. Weren't you in the middle of a story?” she finished without the same authority as when she started.

"Well, long story short. I just saw your messages now and was coming to see you and explain."

"And I came here to see if everything was okay," Charlie said, "But Gabe forbade me from going upstairs. Something about brain bleach."

The four friends stared at the floor refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Cas broke the silence first. “I was asking Meg for advice.”

“Advice about what?” Dean asked unable to keep a disgusted sneer off his face.

“Well,” Cas began, “I was asking for advice about this. What I’m supposed to do. Like the talking and the kissing and . . . other things.”

“Well, well, well. Cassie’s got it in him after all. And here I thought you were gunning to be a forty year old virgin.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Charlie added, giving Gabe a warning stare.

“FORTY?!” Dean exclaimed trying to pick his jaw up from the floor. “Well that certainly clears things up about the grey ha--”

“I’m thirty-eight,” Castiel retorted before Dean could finish his sentence. “And thank you, Charlie.”

"Also, almost definitely not a virgin," Dean chimed in.

“So what _are_ you going to do with this one?” Gabe asked pointing at Dean.

“I believe that’s something best left between Dean and myself.” Castiel said as he grabbed Dean’s hand and led him out the front door.


	14. Chapter 14

"Dude, you were pretty badass back there.” Dean lauded, patting Cas reassuringly on the back.

Castiel tensed under the contact. "Thank you," He answered taking a few steps past Dean. “Dean,” Cas said without turning around.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go somewhere.”

“Cas, I'd love to just beat it, but I have work soon.”

“It’s okay. I’ll go take a walk.” Cas replied.

“Actually, why don’t you come with me?”

“Really? Is that, okay?”

“Well, I don’t think the boss is going to fire me for it.” Dean replied, winking.

“Got it, _boss._ ” Cas said with a labored wink.

“Don’t do that.” Dean said.

“Do what?”

“Don’t worry about it, just get in the car.” Dean answered, “Or we’re going to be late.

They got in the car, Dean popped in _Led Zeppelin II_ , rolled down the windows and drove off.

“This is what you listen to?” Castiel asked.

“Good stuff, right?”

“They lyrics are very um, mawkish.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“ _If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you_. It's supposed to be endearing, but it doesn't come off as such. Ignoring the fact that a celestial body incapable of accepting or refusing anything. If it somehow refused to shine, the earth as we know it would cease to exist. As a species, we wouldn't survive long. Thus rendering us incapable of all emotions. Including loving anyone or anything.”

Dean debated pulling the car over and personally dragging Cas out of the passenger seat. “You don’t analyze Zeppelin, man. You just," he paused to grope for the right word. Instead he placed an open hand over his heart, "You just feel it.”

"Then why bother to include lyrics at all?"

Dean used the STOP sign to stare Cas down until an annoyed driver's horn urged him forward.

"Or I suppose I could just feel it," Cas said once they were moving again.

Cas said nothing for the rest of the trip, but Dean could practically hear his thoughts.

I imagined Cas saying, “If you give you all, obviously you'd give nothing more. You’d have nothing left to give. And that would be rather foolish. Because your life is part of 'it all' and if you gave that, then you'd be unable to provide anything more. Except perhaps nutrients for scavengers and decomposers.” Great, now Dean was doing it.

Fortunately, they didn't have much further to go.

“Welcome to Mildred’s house.” Dean announced stepping out of the car.

“What exactly do you do for Mildred?” Cas asked.

Dean realized that as far as Cas was concerned, Dean just installed air conditioners and programmed TVs. “Odd and ends. Nothing major. Mostly I think she likes the company.”

“And the view!” Mildred said walking up the sidewalk behind them. “Right on time! I thought I'd be late. I was just visiting my granddaughter and we lost track of time. She’s back from her soul searching and she met a some handsome devil over in the big apple. Oh, just give me a moment,” Mildred said as she rooted in her purse for her phone, “Here they are in Central Park!”

“No . . .” Dean said turning away from the image he saw on the phone. He thought he was going to be sick. The "handsome devil" in the photo was none other than Sam Winchester, his brother.

“They’re a very attractive couple, Miss . . .” Cas trailed off.

“Just call me Mildred, dear.” she said. “And you are?”

“My name is Castiel. And they’re a very attractive couple. Is your granddaughter Eileen Leahy by any chance?”

“Why yes! Do you know her?”

“She’s a friend of a friend.”

“If you know Eileen, do you sign young man? I could really use some practice,” Mildred said, but kept stealing glances at Dean who was trying to pretend he didn't exist.

"There a regular sign language event at the Cafe. You should come!

“I'd love to, but I would need someone to take me.”

“Oh I’m sure that Dean would be more than happy to escort you.” Cas volunteered.

Dean groaned.

“I know I'm not as cute as this fellow here,” Mildred said throwing an elbow toward Cas, "But I'm still good company."

“It's not that Millie. It's just--that picture. I wasn't expecting to see my brother in it.”

“Well, you’re quite lucky to have such a wonderful brother to look up to. From everything Eileen’s told me, he’s a total catch.”

“Little brother,” Dean grumbled.

"Pardon?" Mildred said.

"Little brother," Dean repeated, "Sam's my little brother."

“Then he must've been quite the bean pole growing up. Because based on this picture I’d wager you still have to look up to him, isn’t that right Castiel?”

Cas smiled.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me he met a girl?”

“Maybe he's not sure yet. Or maybe he's very sure and he's worried you’d find her, give her the big-brother treatment, and scare her off,” Castiel answered.

“So I see that you and Castiel are already well acquainted,” Mildred said grinning at Cas.

Castiel smiled. “We are.”

“Well, I for one don’t see what the big deal is. I’m sure he’ll let you know in time. Besides, I doubt you told your little brother about this fine young gentleman you’ve found.”

“We’re not--” Cas and Dean said simultaneously.

“Don’t you even start that with me.” Mildred said, shutting them down before they could start. “You are two of the handsomest men I’ve ever met and it’s clear that there’s some unresolved . . . tension that you need to sort out straight away.”

“Millie, Cas and I are just friends.”

“Oh, don’t you ‘just friends’ me. And it’s Mildred, not Millie. You don’t get to be my age without knowing a thing or two about relationships. And yours is going to be a strong one. I can tell. Now go on, skedaddle!”

“But I didn’t even--”

“Oh, you know, I just call you up to check in on you. Make sure you're alive and give you a little company. I can take care of the chores myself. Now here’s just a little something so the two of you could have a nice night on the town.”

“We couldn’t possibly accept that.” Castiel said.

“He’s right, we’ll get out of your hair as long as you promise to put that money away before you get mugged.”

“Alright Dean, but only because your boyfriend is such a charmer.”

Dean opened his mouth to disagree, but Mildred cut him off with a glare.

“Thank you, Millie!” Dean called as he led Castiel back to his car.

“It’s Mildred, dear.” she corrected.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mildred!"

“You too, dear!” Mildred answered. “And it’s Millie!”

"Pleasure to meet you, Millie!" Cas said with a smile.

"And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Is there anything you wouldn't do?" Dean asked.

Mildred just smiled as Dean and Castiel got back in the car and drove home.

\--*-----

“You think Charlie’s still in there?” Dean asked, pointing toward the front door from the relative safety of his car.

“I'm not sure,” Castiel answered.

"They're not going to let this go. They'll have questions."

“We should probably sort this out before it gets out of control.”

“Yes we should.”

"Well, what is this?" Dean said using two fingers to point at the two of them.

"We're friends," Cas answered.

"Yeah, that's not going to fly with them. They're going to want more than that. They both watched us making out in the parking lot. Was that a fluke? Or I dunno . . ."

"It wasn't a fluke."

"Yeah, but does that mean that you're my-- Does that mean we're dating?"

"Do you want to be?"

"Honestly, Cas? I'm not sure. And I mean this when I say, ‘it's not you, it's me.’ Like you're pretty . . . unique, but I can totally get behind that. And you can definitely get behind me if you know what I'm saying. But that's not the point I'm trying to make," Dean said shaking the fantasy away, "I'm not the dating type. I sorta have a history of being crap at it."

"I see."

"Do you? I just don't want to fuck it up. I actually _like_ living here. And maybe I like you too. I don't know. I can't have this conversation here," Dean said looking toward the door, "I feel like they're going to walk out. Why don't we get out of here?"

"Where?"

"Let's head out to the cafe for that 'date' Mildred sent us on."

Cas nodded and Dean started up his Baby.

"So I'm pretty crap at dating too," Cas said.

"Really?" Dean said trying to bite back the sarcasm a little too late. Fortunately, Cas didn't seem to notice or care.

"I've been told that I can be distant."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing. I've been told that I tend to push people away. Guess we're a good couple. A match made in heaven," Dean said with a forced laugh.

They drove the rest of the way to the Cafe listening to Steve Walsh sing about what was on his mind.

"Sorry," Cas said as they pulled into the lot.

"Stop apologizing, Cas," Dean turned in his seat to face Cas. "That's a crap habit. You didn't do anything worth apologizing for."

"I didn't help you figure out what to tell Charlie and Gabe."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll take a page from your book there, Cas. It's something best left between you and me. And when we figure it out, we can let them know."

Castiel smiled and Dean's heart fluttered at the sight. Maybe he wouldn't screw this up like the others. Whatever _this_ was.

“Cas?” Dean said before Cas could open Baby's door. “I think I would like to kiss you.”

Castiel laughed.

“Yeah, that sounds nice."

"Dude, we gotta work on your bedroom talk," Dean laughed as he leaned in for a kiss.

Dean heard a shriek. He opened his eyes and saw Charlie and Gabe each holding a coffee cup and standing outside Baby. Charlie looked so excited that she might spill her drink. Gabe just lifted his eyebrows suggestively a few times before signing something awfully graphic.

Cas didn't seem to notice. Or at least he didn't seem to mind.

Dean flipped off Gabe as Charlie dragged him away.

Dean and Cas got out and walked to the Cafe's front doors. On it they saw two new flyers: one advertising Cas's monthly ASL group, and the other announcing Moondoor's opening date on  October 5th. 

Dean grinned. It was going to be a good day. And if Dean had anything to say about it, a good night too. And if he were to really press his luck, maybe he would find out if it really would be nice to "meet" Cas.


End file.
